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33  WIST  MAIN  STRfIT 

WHSTIR.N.Y.  USaO 

(716)  173-4303 


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CIHM/»CMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


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CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductlons  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiquos 


■^ 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notas/No.ta*  tachniquas  at  bibliographiquaa 


Th«e 
to  th« 


Tha  Inatituta  has  .attamptad  to  obtain  tha  bast 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturas  of  this 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqua.- 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduction.  or  which  may  significantly  changt 
tha  usual  method  of  filming,  are  chackad  balow. 


d 


D 
D 

□ 
El 


n 


1 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couvarture  da  coulawr 


□    Covers  damagad/ 
Couverture  endommagte     '  * 

□   Covers  restored  and/or  laminated^ 
Couverture  restaur^  at/ou  palliculAe 


Cover  title  missing/ 

tiire  de  couverture  manqua 


pn    Coloured  maps/ 


D 


Cartas  flographiquaa  en  coulaur^: 

Coloured  ink  li.e.  other  than  blue  or  blackl/ 
Cncra  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleua  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plataa  and/or  iliuatrationa/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrationa  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/  ^ 

Rali4  avac  d'autraa  documents 

Tight  binding  ma/cauaa  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

L^  re  liure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
diatorsion  i«  lonQ^  la  marga  intiriaura 

Blank  leaves  aildad  duHhg  reatoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  poaaible.  theee 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  aa  peut  que  eertainee  pages  blanehae  ajoutiaa 
lors  d'una  reatauration  apparrtssant  dans  la  taxta. 
mais,  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  cas  pages  n'ont 
pM  «t4  f  iklMlM. 

Adf^ltidnal  comments:/ 
Commentairas  suppl4mentairesr 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  la  meilleur'exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  it*  possible  de  se  prpcurer.  Les  d*tails 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-*tre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite.  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une. 
modification  dans  la  m*thoda  normaia  de  filrhad* 
sont  indiqu*s'ci-dassous. 


a 

D 
t 
D 

a 

El 


Coloured  pages/ 
de  couleur 


Pages  damaged/ 

Pages  endommag*as     "* ' 

Pages  restored  and'/or  laminated/ 
Pages  rastaur*es  et/ou  pallicul*as 


V.V 


poaail 

Oft»M 

filmir 


Origii 
bagin 
tha  la 
•ion. 
othar 
first  I 
jpion, 
ortthi 


Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d*color*as,  tachet*es  ou  piqu*es 

Pages  detached/ 

Pagas  d*tach**«  — 

Showthrough/ 
Traitsparenot      ■ 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 

Qualit*  in*gala  de  Timpraaaion    , 

Includes  supplementary  material/       ,  * 
Comprand  du  mat*riai  suppl*mentaira 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  *dition  disponibtli:/ 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc..  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalem*nt  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  fauillet  d'errata.  une  pelure. 
etc..  ont  *t*  fllm*es  *  nouveau  da  fapon  *. 
obtanir  la  malHaura  image  possible. 


Tlwh 
Shan 
TINU 
«vhiel 

Maps 

diffar 

ontiri 

bagin 

HgKt 

raquii 

moth( 

'  m 


"^ 


This  itam  Is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  ehaekad  balow/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  r*diiction  indiqu*  ci-dessaus. 

10X  UX  liX  22X 


• 

•  du 
lodifier 
r  un«. 
Imad* 


Th«  copy  filmiMl  h«r«  has  iMmv  r«produo«d  thanks 
to  th«  ganarosity  of: 


i   '        Univtriity  of  Victoria 
McPharton  Library 

Tha  imagas  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
posaibia  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  icaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apadfieationa. 


Original  coplaa  in  printad  papar  eovara  ara  fihnad 
baginning  with  tha  front  edvar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  pa^  with  a  printad  or  Hliiatratad  impra*- 
aion/or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  AH 

,  othar  original  eopiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  wfth  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 

jpion.  and  anding  on  tha  iaat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  impraasion. 


»a 


L'axamplaira  fiimi  f ut  raproduit  grica  k  la 
g*n4rosit4  da:  ' 


University  of  Victoria 
IMcPtierion  Library 

.  Laa  imagas  suhrantas  ont  dti  raproduitas  avac  la 
plua  grand  soin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  l'axamplaira  filmA..  atan 
oonformiti  avac  laa  conditions  du  contrat  da 
fiimaga.  ^ 

Laa  axamplalraa  orlglnaux  dont  la  couvartura  an 
papiar  aat  imprim^a  sont  fHmte  an  commandant 
par  kt  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darnlAra  paga  qui  comporta  urni  amprainta 
d'imprassion  ou  d'iilustration.  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  caa.  Tous  laa  autras  axamplalraa 
originaux  sont  filmia  an  commampant  par  la 
pramMra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraaaion  ou  d'iilustration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  damlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 


Thlf mat  faobrdicl  fnivfa  oh  da^  microflcha 
shaN  contain  tha  symbol  «^  (moaning  "CQN- 
UNUCD").  or  tha  symbol  ▼  (moaning  'END"), 
whiehovar  applkM. 


Un  daa  symbotoa  suhMfits  apparaltra  sur  la 
damlAra  Imaga"^  ehaqua  microficha,  salon  la 
eaa^^l|mbol*>^^  signifia  "A  SUIVRE '.  la 
symbola  ▼  signifia  'TIN". 


Mapa,  ptotaa,  charta.  ate.,  n^ay  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raductlon  ratioa.  .Thoaa  ^  larga  to  b* 
antlraly  Includad  in  ona  Mpoaura  arl  fHmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  eomar.  laft  to  i^ 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  iframaa  aa 
raquirad.  Th»  fpilpwlnf  < 
mathod: 


Laa  eartaa.  planchaa,  tablaaux.  ate.,  pauvant  Atra 
fllmAa  i  d^  taux  <to  riduction  diff  Arants. 
Loraquq  ia  documant  aat  trap  grand  pour  Atra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  cllchA.  ii  ast  filmA  Apartir 
dto  Tangla  supArlaur  gaucha.  da  gaucha  A  droita. 
at  da  haut  mn  baa,  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'Imagaa  nAcassaira.  Laa  diagrammas  suivants 
iliuatrant  la.mAthoda.        ^        'h- 


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THE 


\ 


STORY  OF  THE  NEW  PEIEST 


IN 


CONCEPTION    BAY. 


By   ROBERT   LOWELL. 


■*^^        Alhvov,  cuhvov,  iiiri,  rd  6'  ei  vadro  • 

Woe !  woe ! 
But  right,  at  laat,  though  sloir. 


A  NEW  EDITION, 
WITH  IIXUSTRATIOBS  fiy  DARLEY. 


VOLUME  I. 


•^ 
f      ^ 


BOSTON: 
E.  P.  BUTTON  AND  COMPANY. 

: iML 


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V—  .,    .       .j^ 


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Bntered  according  to  Act  of  Ctongren,  in  the  yeu  1868,  by 
I  Phiuups,  Sahpsok  and  Cohpant, 

in  the  Cl«rt;'i  Office  of  tlie  District  Court  of  tlie  District  of  MuMoliiuettt.>i' 


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BIT1B8ISB,  OAMBftinai: 
•nOIOTTPID  AND  PklRTID  BT  H.  0.  BOUOHTOIT. 


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One,  to  whom  I  ow«  all,  will  Hb  take  Twp 

AT   MY  HAND,  THE  BEST   I   HAVg  ?  ,,. 

August,  1857. 


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Messrs.  Phillips,  Sampson  &  .Co.,  in  1859,  were 
about  publishing  a  new  edition  of  The  New  Priest  in 
a  popular  form,  when  the  two  chief  partners  died,  and 
the  hous^  was  broken  up. 

The  plates,  being  the  author's  property,  have  since  lain 
untouched,  until  now  that  an  illustrated  edition  is  pro- 
posed ;  when  certain  changes  have  been  made,  that  it 
may  be  easier  to  bind  the  book  in  one  volume. 

Oct.  1868. 


? . : 


^M 


i-,-.  I !,  ^1  ^^f^^}' ^.My 


CONTENTS. 


!  f  « 


OHAP. 

M 

I. 

59,  were       ^ 

^            II. 

RIEST  in        1 

lU. 

lied,  and       H 

IV. 
V. 

iince  lain       ^B 

VI. 

1  is  pro-       ^m 
h  tlmt  it      H 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

^^^H 

XII. 

XIII. 

^^^B 

XIV. 

fc  ^^^^B 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 
XXII. 


A   RARE   INTRUDER 

MRS.   BARRE   AND    MISS   DARE 

A   PRETTY  SCENE   AND   ITS   BREAKING-UP 

A   WALK   AND   THE   END   OF   IT 

A  FEW  MOMENTS    OP    TWO    YOUNG  PEOPLE'S 

MVES  .  .  .  '\. 

A   WRITTEN  ROCK,   AND   SOMETHIN'O  MORE      . 
TRUE  WORDS   ARE   SOMETIMES   VE&Y  HEAVY 
SKIPPER  GEORGE'S   STORY  .  . 

A  MEETING      .  . 

SOME  GOSSIP  ANB  SOME   REAL  LIFE    . 
TWO   MEET   AGAIN     '. 

A   SAD   YOUNG  HEART     .  .  ,  ; 

A   GREAT   LOSS  .... 

A  NEW   MAN         .  .  . 

TRACES   OF   THE    LOST 
SEARCHING   STILL 
WfliGH   WAY  SUSPICION  LEADEI 
THE   DAY  .FOR   REST       .... 
l^iriplkCTED   PERSONS 
AN    OFFICIAL    EXAMINATION,    FROM    WHICH 

SOMETHING   APPEARS  .  . 

AN  OLD    SMUGGLER 
AN    INTERVIEW    OF    TWO    WHO    HAVE    MET 

BEFORE  .  .  .  . 


Ma 

7 

«M 

14 

m 

80 

A         g^^M 

81 

■             "lira 

87 

f 

41 

49 

57 

\ 

75 

. 

84 

X     "-^ 

88 

■     -kI 

97 

102 
114 

121 

186 
145 
152 

7 

,« 

159 

167 
179 

■  /  ■■ 

Us 

189 


y 


▼i  V  CONTENTS. 

OHAT. 

XXIII.-   THE  Jirmw  PRIEST   AT  BAT-HABBOB  . 
XXIVi    A   CAU,,  AT  A  NUNNERY  .  .  ,    . . 

XXV.    THE  MAGISTRATE  DEIALS  WITH.  OThIDR  8U8- 
*  PJCI0U8   PERSONS  .     '  .  ^     .         » 

XXVl.    MR.   BANGS  HAS   AN  INTERVIEW  WITH*  THE 
'.      HEAD   OF   THE   MISSION        .  . .  . 

XXVII.    ANOTHER  RELIC   FOUND    .  *-. 

XXVIII.    MR.   BANGS  A  NEOPHYTE         . 
XXIX.    MISS  dare's  -EXPEDITION*  WITH  AN  ESCORT 
:3PCX.    ACROSS   THE  BARRENS        .  .  . 


FAOl 

194 
205 

219 

230 
241 
246 
262 
274 


) 


Tgg.  STORY  OF  THE  NEW  PRIEST, 


4^ 


CHAPTEB  L 

A  RAttB   DJTRCpEE. 

^HIRTT  years  pgo,  or  longer,  dnp  bright  daym 
August,  the  church  missionary,  the  Heyerend  Ar- 
thur Wejlon,  was  wail*%  down  Peterport,  with, 
strong  sfep,  and  Swinging  his  cane ;  a  stoutlyrbuilt  Engr 
lishman,  of  good  height,  not  yery  handsome,  but  <^en, 
kindly,  inteUigent,  ^d  reverend-lbokuig ;  in  dress  jSst 
grave  enough  and  just  enough  unlike  bther  gentlemeij  to 
mark  his  office  to  .those  who  wdttld  not  k^ow  it  from  his 
face.  He  is  the  central, per^n,  though  not.  the  chief 
actor,  in  ourstory.  '        \  .    >w 

He  was  a  frank  and  kindly   man  ,-4traightforwara, 
honest,  and,  in  a  rather  homely  way,  a  little  humorous,  • 
He  had  seen  something/of  the  world,  in  living  thirty 
years,  and  to  good  purpose ;   had  a  mind  larg^  enou^  ' 
(because  it  opened  into  his  heart)  to  take  in'more  things 
than  the  mere  ^bits  of  his  order  or  his  social  rank";  and 
whOe  he  loved,  he^y,  the  faitli  and  services  of  his 
diurch,  he  had  that  Wmon  ^nse^without  which-»he 
Reformers  would  never  have  got  kad  kept  our  Common 
Prayer.    He  was  a  good  scholar,  too,'a8  weU  as  a  good 
parish  priest       •     ,  y 

This  was  the  man  then  that  h^  just  left  his  hoiisfe, 
4a^  oom%  white  xmo,  wiA  two  Kttfe^  wingg,>aiid 


^ 


r- 


^ 

/m^ 


% 


^ 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


ing  down  the  harbor-road,  breaking  forth,  now' and  then, 
when  the  way  was  clear,  into  a  cheery  snatch  of  sacred 
(or  not  profane)  song.  ^ 

The  first  turn  in  the  road  brought  him  in  sight  of  tl^o 
persons  Walking  in  company  in  advance  of  him, — ^a  gentle- 
man of  about  his  own  age,  and  looking  like  a  clergyman, 
and  a  tall,  large,  strongly-moulded  fisherman  of  some  '' 
sixty  years.  The  former  seemed  to  be  listening,  rather 
than /talking,  while  his  companion  spoke  earnestly,  as 
*  appeared  from  hia  homely  gestures. 

On  the  hill-top,  near  Beachy  Cove,  (ijamed  from  its 
strip  of  sand  and  shingle  edging  the  shore,)  they  stood 
still;  and  the  Minister,  who  was  not  far  behind  them, 
could  scarcely  help  hearing  what  was  said.  The  fisher- 
man still  iy)oke ;  his  voicfe  and  manner  having  the  gentle- 
ness and  modesty  fJraost  of  a  child.  Ouq  arm  passed 
through  a  coil  of  small  rope ;  aiid  in  his  hand  he  held, 
with  a  carefulqess  that  never  forsook  him,  a  bright-col- 
ored seaweed.  The  gentleman  listened  to  him  as  if  he 
had  the  honeyed  speech  of  Nestor.  It  was  some  story  of 
the  sea,  apparently,  that  he  was  telling,  or  commenting 
upon* 

The  Minister  looked  curiously  toward  the  group,  as 
they  stood,  not  noticing  him  ;  and  then,  after  a  momentary 
hesitation,  went  across  a  little  open  green,  and  into  the 
enclosure^of  a  plain,  modest-looking  house,  about  which' 
creepers  and  shrubs  and  flowers,  here  and  there,  showed 
taste  and  will  more  than  oommon.  His  dog,  a  noble 
great  black  fellow,  "  Epictetus,"  who  had  loitered  somer- 
where  upon  tlje  road,  came  to  his  master,  here,  and  waited 
at  his  side,  as  he  stood  before  the  doorj  after  knocking. 

The  parting  words  of  the  stranger,  thanking  his  com- 

-tMPMAn  Tft»tn»B  art^iot-XT  «^  4tHWy  ipollr     ^lw^^  -nC  t\\n    afrtu*    fint*..*.— 


.f^:„h.. 


}t 


T' 


A  BABE  INTBUDEB. 


9 


man  turning  meekly  back  the  thanks,  came  through  the 

still  air,  across  from  where" they  stood.  '     ■ 

"It  was  very  good  of  'ee,  sir,"  said  the  latter,  "to  come 

along  wi'  me,"  and  hear  my  poor  talk— I  wislb  'ee  a  very 

good  momin,  sir,  an'  I'U  carry  this  bit  of  a  thing  1©  my 

^  maid,*  please  God.     One  o'  the  nighbors  sen'd  it     She 

,  makes  a  many  bright  things  o'  such." 

When  he  h^  done  speaking,  his  strong  steps  were 
heard  as  he  went  on  his  way,  alone ;  for  the  whole  scene 
was  as  it  had  been  for  hours,  still  and^quiet,  as  if,  in  going 
to  then-  fishing,  the  people  had  left  no  life  behind  them. 
There  had  been  scarce  a  moving  thi^(if  the  eye  sought 
one,)  save  a  light  reek  from  a  chimne^a  fairer  thing,  as  it 
floated  over  the  poor  man'^  dwelling,  than  ducal  or  royal 
banner,)  and  a  lone  white  sgmmer-cloud,  Ibw  over  the  earth; 
where  the  wind,  taking  holiday  elsewhere,  left  it  to  itself. 
Finding  that  Mrs.  Barre,  for  whom  he  asked,  had 
walked  down  the  harbor  with  Miss  Dare,  the  Minister 
went  forth  again,  toward  the  road. 

At  the  top  "af  the  hill,  where  he  had  stood  with  the 
fisherman,  the  stranger  was  still  standing,  now  gazing 
over  the  water,  toward  the  hills  in  the  far  southwest ;  a 
very  striking  and  interesting  looking  person  he  was.  It 
was  impossible  for  the  Minister  to  pass  him  without  salu- 
tation, and  the  dog  loitered.  The  stranger  returned  Mr. 
Wellon's  silent  greeting,  gracefully,  and  came  forward., 

"  You  were  going  down :  may  I  walk  with  you  as  far 
fls  our  ways  lie  together  ?  I  am  going  to  ♦  the  Backside,' 
wherevjer  that  is,"  he  said,  very  frankly. 

« I  know  every  sheep  and  goat  track,"  answered  the 
Peterport  Parson  ;  "  and  I  won't  scruple  to  make  you 
free  of  the  place  for  the  pleasure  of  your  company. 


^  Maid  is  pronounced  myd«;  bay,  byt  ;  play,  pfytf  neighbor, 


■ ,  Mi 


10 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


This  hospitable  speech  the  stranger  accepted  cordially. 

"  That  fisherman,"  he  said,  after  they  had  walked  a 
little  while  together,  «  has  a  very  touching  way  of  telling 
a  story,  and  draws  a  moral  wonderfully." 

«  Yes,"  said  the  fisherman's  pastor, «  George  Barbmys 
a  man  worth  seeing  and  hearing,  always." 

« He  was  givmg  me  an  account  of  the  wreck  of  one 
James  Emerson,  which  you,  very  likely,  know  all  about : 
(I  can't  tell  it  as  he  told  it  me,  but)  « the  man  was  going 
to  run  his  boat  into  a  passage  between  »  reef  and  the 
shore,  where  nothing  could  save  him  scarcely  from  de^ 
struction ;  all  his  worldly  wealth  was  in  her,  and  Ms  son ; 
the  people  on  land  shouted  and  shrieked  to  him  through 
the  gale,  that  He'd  be  lost  (and  he  knfew  the  danger  as 
well  as  thejr  did)  ;  suddenly  he  changed  his  mind  and 
#ent  about,  just  grazing  upon  the  very  edge  of  ruin,  and 
got  safe  off; — then,  when  all  was  plain  sailing,  ran  his 
boat  upon  a  rock,  made  a  total  wreck  of  her  and  all  that 
was  in  her,  and  he  and  his  son  were  barely  rescued  and 
brought  to  life.'  After  telling  that,  with  the  simplest 
touches  of  language,  he  gave  me  his.  moral,  in  this 
way :  *  'Ee  see,  sir,  'e  tempted  God,  agoun  out  o'  the 
plain,  right  w'y;  an'  so,  when  'e'd  agot  back  to  the 
^y>  agen,  an'  thowt  'twas  all  easy,  then  God  let  un  go 
down,  and  brought  un  up  again,  athout  e'er  a  thing 
belonging  to  un  but  'e's  life  and  'e's  son's.'— That  moral 
was  wonderfully  drawn  ! " 

While  he  iiiAs  speaking  and  Mr.  Wellon  listening,  they 
had  stopped  in  their  walkT  As  they  moved  on  again, 
the  latter  said : — 

"  Ay,  the  people  all  count  him  more  than  a  common 
man.     He's  poor,  now,  and  hasn't  schooner  or  boat,  and 
jet  cveryboJ^  gives  hiiirlrigTine^^^Strpper  George/ ai^ 
they  would  the  king." 


4 


BUDSB. 


11 


His  Companion  spoke  agak,  earnestly : 

«  Few  men  would  have  drawn  that  moral,  though  all 
its  wisdom  is  only  seeing  simply;  indeed,  most  toen 
would  never  have  drawn  any;  but  undoubtedly,  Skipper 
George's  interpretation  is  the  true  one, '  God  let  kirn  go 
down;  and  not  for  coming  back,  but  for  having  gone 
astray.—^e  saved  his  life.  It  was  riot  easy  to  draw  that 
moral :  it  would  have  been  ea«y  to  say  the  man  might 
better  have  kept  on,  while  he  was  about  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Wellon,  "that  repentance,  coiniug 
across,  would  throw  commonminds  off  the  scent ;  Georg« 
Barbury  isn't  so  easily  turned  aside."  '        .   ! 

The  stranger  continued,  with  the  same  earnestness  as 
before. 

« It  was  the  Fate  of  the  old  Drama ;  and  he  foUowed 
it  as  unerringly  as  the  Greek  tragedist.  It  needs  a  clei^r 
eye  to  see  how  it  comes  continually  into  our  lives.** 

"  Skipper  George  would  never  think  of  any  Pale  bttt 
the  Will  of  God,"  said  his  pastor,  a  Uttle  drily,  on  his 
behalf.  '  -^^ 

"I  mean  no  other,"  said  his  companion.  The  Fate  of 
the  Tragedists— seen  and  interpreted  by  a  Christian—is 
Skipper  George's  moral.  There  might  have  been  a  more 
tragical  illustration;  but  the  rule  of  interpretation  is  the 
same.  Emerson's  wreck  was  a  special  providence ;  but 
who  wiU  try  to  wrench  apart  th^.  link  of  iron  that  this 
downright  reasoner  has  welded  between  it  and  the  wilful- 
ness that  went  before  ?  The  experience  of  paganism 
and  the  Revelation  of  God  speak  to  the  same  purpose. 
Horace's 

•  Raro  anteoedentem  •oelestnm,  Deseroit^Poena,' 
and  the  Psalmisfs  words  (in  the  English  translation), 
^ma  gKaff  lunt  the  wicked  pereon,  to  overthrow  Aum,* 


1    t 


«-  <■ 


y 


12 


THE  NEW  PBIEST. 


w 


come  very  near  together.  To  see  the  illdstra^on  clearly, 
in  a  special  case ;  to  assign  the  consequent  as  in  l^s 
case,  to  its  true  antecedent — not  the  near,  but  tjie  remote 
— ^is  rare  wisdom ! "        ' 

**  Oh !  "yes,"  said  Mr.  Wellon,  **  only  I  keep  to  th^  old 
terms:  < providence,'  *  special  providence,*  ^visitati^* 
and  so  on.  It's  good  that  Skipper  George  isn't  a  man  to 
be  jealons  of,  or  your  admiration  nught  move  me." 

The  stranger  smiled.  As  there  was  often  to  be  noticed 
in  his  voice  something  like  an  habitual  sadness,  and  as 
there  lay  sadness,  or  something  very  like  it,  in  his  eye,  so 
his  smile  was  not  quite  without  it. 

Not  answering,  unless  by  the  smile,  he  asked, 

« Is  his  daughter  like  him  ?  " 

"  She's  ^  marvel ;  only,  one  who  knows  her  does  not 
marvel :  every  thing  seems  natural  and  easy  to  her.  I 
ou^t  to  inquire  whether  you've  any  designs  upon  the 
family?** 

*f  Not  of  proselyting.  Oh  I  no :  none  of  any  sort  what- 
ever. I  had  heard  of  them  from  one  who  did  not  like 
them,  and  now  I'm  correcting  the  impression."  ^' 

As  they  passed  the  church,  in  their  walk,  the  stranger- 
deigyman  bestowed  upon  it  a  sufficient  degree  of  polite 
attention  to  satisfy  all  reasonable  requirements  (for  a 
parson  with  his  church  is  like  a  sailor  with  his  ship)  ; 
and  ihey  went  on,  talking  together. 

Often,  as  the  conversation  grew  animated,  they  stood  - 
still,  and  sometimes  were  interrupted  by  a  passing  col- 
loquy between  the  minister  and  members  of  his  flock. 
They  talked  of  many  things  and  lands ;  and  the  stranger's 
language  made  the  readiest  and  most  fitting  dress  for  his 
thoughts.  If  he  spoke  of  woods,— such  as  bristle  this 
Imd,  or  overbaagHJwiwfefy^fa'^c^^aB  wonig  g^ipjgf^ 


af-^'Siissii*,fij : 


.  Rc^ 


A  BABE  INTBUDEB. 


13 


to  nistle  with  leaves,  or  to  sinell  of  the  ^esshness  of  the 
forest,  or  to  flicker  in  light,  and  fleck  the  earth  with  glow- 
ing shade.  The  waves  swelled,  and  spai^led  in  his 
speech,  and  there  was  such  a  wealth  of  illustration,  that 
the  figures  with  which  he  set  off  what  was  thought  and 
spoken  of  seemed  to  light  down  in  bright  plumage  to  his 
hand  continually,  as  he  wanted  them.  Imagination,  which 
is  the  power  of  embodying  things  of  spirit,  and  spiritual- 
,  izing  and  giving  life  to  material  things,  he  was  full  of. 
^Jie  slight  sadness,  and  a  slight  now-and-then  withdrawal 
of  ETianner,  implied '  that  he  was  not  altogether  taken  up 
in  what  b^  spoke  or  heard.  ,  ^ 

They  pasised,  without  remembering,  the  first  and  chief 
path  leadmg  to  the  Backside,  and  then,  lower  down,  the 
second ;  and,  wheit  they  recaUed  the  oversight,  the  Minis- 
ter turned  back  with  his  companion  and  put  him  in  the 
best  way,  and  they  parted  with  mutual  pleasant  words. 
Epictetus  put  himself  forward  for  a  share  in  this  demon- 
stration, and  was  caressed  in  turn. 

"  This<<old  fellow  is  friendly,"  said  his  new  acquaint- 
ance ;  "  perhaps  we  shall  know  one  another  better,  some 
day." 


% 


ft 


'4 


14 


THE  NEW  PBIEST. 


CHAPTER  n. 

MRS.    BARRt:    AND    MiSS    FANNY   DARE. 

)HE  Minister,  after  leaving  his  companion,  walked 
fast;  but  he  had  walked  for  half  a  mile  down  the 
winding  road  before  the  fluttering  garments  of 
the  ladies  were  in  sight,  as  they  lingered  for  the  loiter- 
ings  of  a  little  girl.  He  overtook  them  at  a  place  where 
the  hill  is  high,  at  one  side  of  the  way,  and  goes  down," 
on  the  other,  steep  and  broken,  to  the  water ;  and  where, 
at  every  turn,  there  is  a  new  and  pretty  outlook  upon  the 
harbor,  or  the  bay,  or  the  picturesque  coves  along  the 
road. 

Mrs.  Barre  first  heard  his  footsteps,  and  turned  round 
with  a  nervous  haste.  Sadness,  and  thought,  and  strength, 
and  womanly  gentleness,  mingled  in  her  great  dark  eyes, 
and  pale  face,  and  made  her  very  striking  and  interesting 
in  appeara,nce — an  effect  which  was  increased  by  her 
more  than  common  height.  No  one,  almost,  could  look 
once  upon  her,  and  be  satisfied  with  looking  once. 

Miss  Fanny  Dare  was  both  handsome  and  elegant — 
rather  paler  than  the  standard  of  English  beauty,  but  a 
fit  subject  for  one  of  those  French  "  Etudes  a  deux  cray- 
ons" if  it  could  only  have  done  justice ^to  the  life  of  her 
ijfine  features  and  glancing  eye,  and  wavy  chestnut  hair. 

Liiule  TSl^  BS^,  a  IWeVcpfd^Wiiw^^heF^fi^ 


■;  T   "    ^^  f 


r-^U^-s-^-irr 


r-^^^'^'-iP^Ti^^^yT^i  V" 


MBS.  BARRJ:  AND  MISS  FANNY  DARE. 


15 


a  yoke,  around  the  great  dog's  neck,  where  it  was  almost 
hidden  in  the  long  black  locks. 

The  Minister,  like  one  used  to  feel  with  others,  spoke  to 

the  widowed  Mrs.  Barre  softlj  and  slowly,  and  mostly  in  the 

Lord's  own  words,  of  her  fair  boy,  lately  dead,  and  of  her 

greater  loss,  not  long  ago,  ^nd  of  the  hope  that  is  in  Christ    * 

-M''?_?JP^I^?..!?^.  ^^^Jy^^  ^J^^i^''  conipanions  on,  leaving 

the  Minister  and  Mrs.  Barre  to  walk"  more  "slowly'r^a^^ 

the  gentle  wind  on  shore,  and  the  silent  little  waved  in 
the  water,  going  the  same  way,  seemed   bearing  them      ■^■ 
company.     The  child's  voice  was  the  only  sound  that 
went  forth  freely  into  the  wide  air.  ' 

As  the  Minister  came  near  with  Mrs.  Barre,  Miss 
Dare  invited  them,  by  a  single  gesture,  to  look  from  thtf^''^.® 
spot  where  she  had  been  standing.  i 

The  place  was  like  a  balcony ;  in  front  one  could  see 
down  the  shore  of  the  harbor  along  the  sea-face  t)f  Whit-  ^ 

monday  Hill,  and  over  more  than  one  little  settlement; 
and  out  in  the  bay  to  Belle-Isle  and  the  South  Shore,  and 
down  towards  Cape  St  Francis.  It  was  to  a  nearer 
prospect  that  she  pointed. 

"Isn't  she  a  dear  thing?"  she  asked,  after  allowing  ^ 
them  a  moment  to  see  the  sight,  which,  as  it  has  to  do 
with  our  story,  our  reader  shall  see,  by-and-by.  ' 

"  Lucy  Barbury  and  little  Janie ! "  said  the  Minister, 
looking  genially  down.     "Yes;  if  any  thing  can 
[good  Skipper  George's  loss,  his  daughter  may^  Mrs. 
Barre  movea  a  little  further  on,  after  looj^  down,  and 
stood  apart. 

"  Don't  let  her  see  us,"  said  the  youngVlady  eagerly, 
"  or  it  will  break  up  my  scene. ;  but  mu8n't\we  get  the 
^^^^L  ^?1  ^^h  ^"<^  h»ve  her  J^aching,  »«  «h<R  /JegerYeal. 


rai,  Bfce       Ml  want  her  off  my  hands,  before  she  knows  more  than  I 


.  -i^sckttti-'*. 


■  ^^  § 


16 


THE  NEW  PBIEST. 


do.     As  for  the  schoolmaster  and  mistress,  poor  things,  I 
^  fancy  thej  look  upon  her  performances  in  learningvmuch 
as  the  hen  did  upon  the  duck's  taking  to  the  water,  when 
she  was  showing  him  how  to  walk.** 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  of  it,*'  said  Mr.  WeUon,  «  when 
she's  old  enough.'* 

"Ah!  Mr.  Wellon;  her  head's  old  enough  inside,  if 
not  outside ;  and  what  are  you  to  do  with  her  in  two  or 
three,  yem^'  waiting?  Besides,  I  want  ta  see  it,  and  I 
probably  shan't  be  here  by  that  |ime."  (A  graver  ex- 
pression cai»e  near  occupying  her  face  at  these  words. 
She  kept  it  out,  and  went  on  speaking.)  «  You  must  put 
the  Smallgroves  int6  the  Newfoundland  Society's  school 
at  Indian  Point,  a«d  we'll  support  our  own  here,  and  she 
shall  teich  it"     The  Minister  smiled. 

"  How  would  she  take  on  the  gravity  and  authority  of 
it?"  said  he. 

"Admirably;  I've  seen  her  at  it  I  caught  her,  one 
day,  with  her  singing  class,  out  behind  the  school-house, 
on  that  stony  ground ;  about  twenty  children,  of  all 
sizes,,  ^o  big,  and  so  big,  and  so  big,"  (graduating,  with 
her  hand,  in  the  air,)  "  practising  just  like  so  many  little 
regimental  drummer-boys,  but  all  with  their  hands  behind 
them.  Lucy's  back  was  towards  me,  and  of  course  the 
scholars'  faces;  and  so  forty  eyes  swung  right  round 
towards,  me,  and  one  little  body  wriggled,  and  an  older 
giri  simpered,  and  Lucy  knew  that  there  must  be  a 
looker-on.;  but  like  a  little  disciplinarian,  she  brought 
them  all  straight  with  a  motion  or  two  of  her  hand,  and 
then  turned  round  and  blushed  all  over  at  my  formidable 
presence,  as  if  it  had  been  his  Reverence,  the  Parson,  or 
her  Majesty,  the  Queen." 
^--'*^eti,^wrmast  see  what  We  Mn  do  aBouE  iV"Mua^r 


U2  J^, 


i  .■'i&li 


MBS.  BABBi; 


MISS  FANNY  PARE. 


17 


Parson,  looking  down  again  o^r  the  diff.    "  And  what's 
this  about  young  Urston  ?  *'  / 

"And  what  makes  you  think  of  young  Urston,  just 
now,  Mr.  Wellon  ?"  asked  Miss  Dare,  reflecting,  archly, 
the  smile  w!th  which  the  Minister  had  uttered  hia  ques- 
tion. Then,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  she  con- 
tinued:— 

"  I  believe  the  Romish  priests,  at  Bay-Harbor,  have  a 
fancy  that  Lucy  is  an  emissary  of  the  Church,  assailing 
Popery  in  one  of  its  weak  points, — the  heart  of  the  young 
candidate  for  the  priesthood. — I  don't  speak  by  authority," 
she  added,  « I  don't  think  it  ever  came  into  her  head.*' 

"Assailing  Popery,  in  his  person? — Nor  I!"  answered 
the  Parson  sententiously,  and  with  his  cane  unsettling  a 
small  stone,  which  rattled  down  the  precipice  and  took 
a  new  place  on  a  patch  of  green  earth  below.  Little 
Mary  was  cautioning  her  four-footed  friend  not  to  fall  over 
the  cliflfs  and  kill  himself,  because  he  pricked  up  his  ears 
and  watched  the  falling  stone  to  the  bottom, 

"No ;  nor  assailing  James  Urston ; '*  said  Miss  Dare, 
smiling  again ;  taking,  at  the  same  time,  the  child's  hand 
into  her  own.  The  parson  also  smiled,  as  he  answered: — 
"Well,  if  it  hasn't  come  into,  her  head,  it's  one  thing, 
certamly ; — though  the  head  is  not  the  only  womanly  or- 
gan that  plots,  I  believe. — But  seriously,  I  hope  that  girl's 
happiness  will  never  be  involved  with  any  of  them ;  very 
seldom  any  good  comes  of  it."        , 

"  You  put  him  quite  out  of  the  case,  as  if  it  were  not 
possible  that  his  happiness  coj^  be  involved,  or  as  if  it 
were  not  worth  considering.  life's  said  to  be  a  fine  young 
fellow,"  said  the  young  lady.  * ' 

"  But,  as  (you  said,  he's  not  only  a  Roman  CathQJic,  bat 

li  candidate  for  the  priesthood."  ^ 

VOL.  I.  2  * 


% 

.A. 


V 

'    f 


/    _■ 


J 


'•"'fl 


18 


THE  NEW  PBIEST. 


"No!  Tm  told  the  complamt  is,  that  he's  given  up  all 
thoughts  of  the  priesthood." 

"That  leaves  Jum  a  Roman  Catholic,"  then  said  the 
Minister,  like  a  mathematician, 

%     "And  a  Roman  Catholic  can  be ,  converted,"  rejoined 
Miss  Dare.  * 

"  In  a  case  of  that  sort  it  must  be  made  sure,  before- 
hand ;— if  there  is  any  sufch  case," — ^he  answered. 

A  sigh,  or  motion  of  Mrs.  Barre,  drew  their  attention 
to  her.  She  was 'still  standing  apart,  as  if  to  give  free- 
dom to  the  conversation,  in  which  she  took  no  share ;  but 
she  looked  much  agitated—Miss  Dare  proposed  to  her 
that  they  should  go  home ;  but  she  decUned.  Her  friend 
turned  to  a  new  subject. 

"Have*  you  heard  of  the  American  that  intends  setting 
himself  up  m  Peterport?"  she  asked  of  the  Minister. 

"No,  I  haven't;"  answered  Mr.  Wellon,  again  looking 
down  from  his  height,  and  busy  with  his  dane :  "  in  what 
capacity  ?  " 

"  Oh !  ma  multifarious  character, — chiefly  as  a  trader, 
I  think,  but  with  a  magic  lantern,  or  some  such  thing,  in 
reserve,  to  turn  lecturer  with,  on  occasion." 

"  No ;  I  hadn't  heard  of  hun ;  but  I'm  not  sure  that  I 
haven't  escbrted  in  ^ther  new-comer  that  bodes  less 
good.  You,  know  ^T^re  to  have  a  Romish  priest  here; 
Tve  jusf  ii^alked  down  with  a  clergyman  of  som^  sort, 
and  very  likely,  the  very  man.  ^^  He  isn't  altogether  like 
it ;  but  I  can't  think  what  else  he  is.  He  reminded  me, 
too,  of  some  one ;  I  can't  think  whom." 

«  What  sort  of  person  is  he,  Mr.  Wellon?.  I  never  saw  \ 
one  of  his  kind,"  said'Miss  Dare. 

"  Very  handsome ;  very  elegant  \  very  interesting :  with 
-  one  ^  4ae  most  w<nid^nul  tongues  I  ever  faearfeii^^  sftm tt — 


very 


•  4 

MBS.  BARBi  AND  MISS  FANNY  DABE.  19 

have  to  look  to  my  flock  i^especiaUy  those  members  of  it 
that  feel  a  friendly  interest  in  JRoman   Catholics/  Eh 
Miss  Fanny?"  -  V  * 

"Yes,  it  is  he/''  md  Mit^^srh ;■■--" thai h  Father 
D^ree."  ^' 

She  was  apparently  endeavouriiig  to  keep  down  a^] 
strong  excitement.  *  >-,  - 

Her  two  compaoions  turned  in  surprise  j  Fanny  Dare's 
lips  being  just  on  the  point  of  speaking.  '    ' 

«  Why  I  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  asked  the  Minister. 

"  Yes ; "  she  smdi— She  was  very  much  agitata.  Be- 
fore either  of  her  companions  spoke,  she  added,  « "Vfe're 
nearly  related  J  but  religioii_ha8»«eparated  us." 
'  .  The  minister  ^d  Miss  Dare  may,  in  their  minds,  have 
connected  her  qwri  recent  coming  with  that  of  the  Romish 
pnest.— There  was  an  embarrassed  pause.  Mrs.  Barr^ 
spoke  again : — 

"I  must  go  home,  I  beHeve,"  she  said,  "I  haven't 
learned  not  to  yield  >)o.my  feelings,  in  spite  of  aU  my 
schooUng.'^  She  called^  her  child  to  her,  and'humedly 
took  leave.    Miss  Dare  ;iid  not  stay. 

The  two  ladies  walked  up  the  road,  with  little  Mary: 
the  child  persuading  her  shaggy-friend,  to  goa  few^tejs 
in  her  company.    Mr.  Wellon  continued  his  walk;  and 
the  dog,  slipping  his  head  out  from  under  Mary's  arm,  ^ 
turned  and  trotted  dignifiedly  after  his  master^ 


r 


X: 


-r 


ever  saw  '» 


1 


^iji^.*iii»V^A.i 


t\    .«».»  i  -»Jib-^^> 


t 


IQ 


THE  17BW  PRIEST. 


"V-  M 


i,i  1 


CHAPTER   m. 

▲  PRETTY   SCENE, AND   ITS   BEEAKING-I7P. 

I  HIS  Whitmonday  Hill,  in  Peterport,  of  which 
mention  was  made  in  the  last  chapter,  is,  on  its 
travelled  face,  steep  enough  for  a  practised  beast 
(if  thiere  were  such  in  Peterport)  to  slide  down,  and  on  the 
water  side,  stands  up*  three  hundred  feet  and  more  of  al- 
most sheer  precipice — gravel,  and.  rock,  and  patches  of 
dry  grass.  Oh  that  side,  at  the  j^ottom,  it  has  an  edging 
of  rounded  detached  rocks,  wij^lfiere  and  there  among 
them  a  bit  of  gravel  that  has  fallen  down  and  lodged. 
This  edging  stretches  along  as  debatable  ground  between 
the  hill  and  the  sea,  to  Daughter's  Dock,  (the  little  cove 
where  a  "  Seventh  Daughter"  liyes,)  and,  when  the  water 
is  high,  is  plashed  and  played  with  by  the  waves,  as  on  this 
s^^^er's  afternoon  on  which  we  bring  the  reader  to  it.  ^ 

%^ith  a  fine  breeze  in  from  tfe  eastward,  and  the  bright 
sun- shining  from  half  way  down  the  sky,  the  wa.tej 
in  glad  crowds,  up  the  harbor,  lild  ran  races  al 
.cliffs.  Here  and  there  a  little  in-coming  sail  waii'fiiffing' 
and  failing  smoothly  and  silently,  as  the  loaded  punt 
floai^Jbefore  the  wind. 

T|«ii^^jto,,a  sympathetic  eye,  was  a  pretty  one  of 
home%]iHil»  thidbrettie^t  part  of  it  was  on  the  water- 


>a»y  Pi> 

At  the  upper 

end  of  it 

^B    small,  ] 

^H 

"U 


A  PBETTY  SCENE  AND  ITS  BKEAKINO-UP.        21 

(speaking  harfeor-wise,  and  meaniiig  totf^rds  the  inner  pm 
pfthe  harbor)  stood  a  little  stage— a  rude  hoiise  for  head- 
ing and  splitting  and  salting  fish— whose  open  doorway 
showed   an  inviting  shade,  of  -which   the   moral  effect! 
was  heightened  h^  the  sylvan  nature  of  the  house  itself, 
made  up  a^aj  of  boughs  of  fir,  though  withered  and 
'*^^-    M^^^  ^d  ^i?  wife  had  just  taken  in  the 
catch  IJ^H^fiponi  a  punt  at  the  stage's  ladder,  and  a 
girfjW  ^ome  seventeen  years,  was  ^wing  the  un- 
boat, along  beside  the  hill,  by  a  rope  laid  over  her 
alder,  while  a  Uttle  thing  of  four  or  five  years  old,  on 
board,  was  tugging  with  an  oar  at.  the  itern,  to  keep  the 
^boat's  head  off  shore. 
^  The  older  girl  was  one  wfiose  beauty  is  not  of  any 
classic  kind,  ^nd  yet  is  beauty,  being  of  a  young  life, 
healthy  arid  Strong,  but  quiet  and  deep,  to  which  features 
and  form.gi^  thorough  expression  and  obedience.     She 
h^d    a    swelling,  springy   shape,   dark,   glancing    eyes, 
cheeks  glowing  with  quick  bloi)d,  (the  figure  and  glance 
and  glowing  cheek  all  at  their  "best  with  exercise,)  whUe 
masses  of  jetty  hair  were  lifted  and  let  fall  by  the  wiiid 
i^m  below  the  cap,  which  she  wore  like  all  girls  in  her 
country.     Her  dress  was  different  from  the  common  only 
m^he^stefulness  that  belongs  to  such  a  person,  and  had 
now  a  grace  more  than  ever,  as  it  waved  and  fluttered  in 
j(5  wmd  ^^d  partook  of  the  life  of  the  wearer.     She 
^^a  frock  of  dark  blue,  caught  up  a  &tle  in  front,  and 
showmg  a  white  woollen  petticoat;  a  kerchief  of  pretty 
colors  was  tied  very  becofningly  over  her  bosom,  and  a 
S    f  "^>b«V^ongthe  front  of  her  cap  lay  among 
her  black  hair.     Her  shoes  and  stocking,  were  i;iled  up 
m  her  aoron,  while_^—  "-'-         •     -    -  ""w  up 


small,  but  smooth  and  well-shaped-clung  to  the  uZZ 


utani  ^- .  «.i>jt.. 


.     'S 

•    1  ■/ 


(^      • 


V    ■ 

' 

5 

22 


THE  KEW  PWEST. 


surfaces  of  the  rocks,  and  strained  upon  them,  as  she 
walfce(J  against  the  wind  and  sprang  from  one  rock  to 
another;  and  they  dipped  now  and  then  in  the  water,  as 
the  little  waves  splashed  up.  Over  all,  both  face  and 
figure,  was  a  grace  of  innocent,  modest  maidenhood. 

Nothing  could  be  prettier  or  more  picturesque  than 
this  little  group.  The  elder  girl,  who  dragged  the  boat, 
skirted  the^  edge  of  the  water  with  the  lightness  of  one 
of  those  little  beach  bu-ds,  that,  with  a  shadow  and  a  re- 
flection in  the  moist  sand  running  along  beside  it,  alter- 
nately follows  and  retreats  from  the  retreating  arid 
advancing  waves  ;  and  the  little  navigator,  towards  whom 
her  sister  continually  turned,  had  her  plump  little  legs,  in 
their  wrinkled  yam  stockings,  and  her  well-shod  feet  set 
apart  to  keep  her  balance,  while  her  head  was  tightly 
covered  in  a  white  cap,  and  a  kerchief  with  a  silk  fringe 
went  round  her  neck  and  down  the  back  of  her  serge 
gown,  80  that  one  could  not  but  smile  at  her  and  her 
work.  At  intervals  she  prattled,  and  for  longer  intervals 
she  \ij,orked  with  all  earnest  gravity  in  silence. 

There  was  another  beauty  about  these  girls  to  those 
who  knew  them,  as  will  appear  in  its  time. 

Splash !  went  the  water  against,  the  bow,  spattering 
every  thing,  and  among  other  things,  the  little  white- 
capped  head  and  silk  kerchief  and  serge  gown  of  the 
sculler  at  the  stern.  Anon  a  wave  came  up  from  be- 
neath the  keel,  and,  thrusting  a  sudden  shoulder  under 
the  blade  of  her  oar,  would  lift  it  up  out  of  the  scull-hole 
in  spite  of  her,  and  be  off.  I'hen  she  would  grasp  her 
wea()on  womanfully,  and  get  it  under  her  arm,  and  lay  it 
laboriously  into  its  place  again.     In  England  one  may 

■'"^  ^**^  initiior  o  tttTTSStT  gtMllg    t^  StSutt?   Wim    ttr  jtjXit 


on  its  back  and  another  walking  ^beside.    Here  they  were 


..iiferv.'. 


f»t" 


A  PRETTY  SCENE  AKD  ITS  BBEAKING-UP.       28 

taking  the  punt  to  a  snug  place,  where  she  was  to  be 
hauled  up  for  the  night. 

,"Pull!    PuU! 
^\J  For  a  good  cap-full 

Out  of  the  great  deep  sea,  Oh !  " 

cried  the  maiden  in  a  mellow,  musical  voice,  (evidently 
for  the  little  one,  for  she  herself  had  her  own  thoughts, 
no  doubt ;)  and  as  the  great  deep  sea  illustrated  the  song, 
practically,  the  latter  repeated,  laughing,  (with  a  some- 
what  staid  and  moderate  merriment,)  and  in  the  broken 
speech  of  a  child,  working  very  hard, 

"  Oh !  what  a  good  cap-fnll 
Out  of  'a  g'eat  deep  seeo !  " 

and  she  was  very  near  losing  hgr  oar  again. 

As  they  came  on  in  this  way,  the  elder  sister  helping 
and  sharing  the  child's  laborious,  frolic,  a#at  the  moment 
lookmg  back,  a  dark,  winged  thing  flew  across  the  path. 

"Oh!  my  s'awl,  Lucy!"  exclaimed  the  little  one  in  a 
hopeless  voice,  but  tugging,  nevertheless,  at  her  oar, 
while  she  looked  up  sadly  to  where. the  black  kerchief 
with  the  silk  fringe  which  she  claimed  as  a  shawl  had 
been  whirled  by  the  wind,  and  had  caught  and  fastened 
upon  the  prickly  leaves  of  a  juniper  bush,  that  alone  of 
all  trees  occupied  the  steep. 

"  My  pooty  s'awl  you  gave  me !  "    she   cried  again, 
workmg  harder  than  ever  at  the  oar. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Janie,"  said  her  sister  ;  «  we'll  get  it  again, 
I  thmk  ; "  but  as  they  looked  up,  the  hill  was  a  sheer  steep, 
and  the  gravel  very  loose. 
Ji)Qr„  littlo^  Jaaje,  ^w4tf^  her  distracted^  ihougtili:-aiia — 


they  were     S  ^'^^out  the  draught  of  the  rope,  wliich  Lucy  held  slack- 


■'^'..-^^f^ 


f  I  , 


m 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


ened  as  she  lingered  over  the  mishap,  could  not  keep  the 
boat  off,  and  it  came  ashore.  The  elder  sister  came  up 
to  comfort  her. 

"  Janie,  shall  I  shove  you  out  again  ?  "  she  asked,  "  or 
shall  I  jump  in  and  scull  you  round  ?  " 

Before  the  little  girl  could  answer,  the  scene  which 
they  had  had  so  much  t#themselves  was  broken  in  upon. 

"  Look  out,  man !  "  was  shouted  in  a  sharp,  quick  tone 
fronr  above. 

"Why,  James  I"  exclaimed  Lucy,  looking  up  the 
loose-gravelled  precipice.  There  stood,  at  the  moment, 
far  up,  a  young  man  poised  upon  it,  while  an  oldier  one 
l^tmed  over  the  upper  edge.  The  loose  gravel  came  rat- 
tling down  to  the  pathway  of  rocks  over  which  the  maiden 
had  been  walking. 

"  Jump  wide,  if  you  must !  "  the  man  at  the  top  called 
out  again,  in  the  clear,  quick  way  of  men  accustomed  to 
shipboard  work. 

In  an  instant  the  elder  sister  shoved  the  boat  forth 
toward  the  cl^ar  water,  and  sprang  into  it,  leaving  Janie's 
oar,  which  had  floated  away ;  got  the  other  into  the  scull- 
hole,  and  worked  the  punt  out  from  the  shore. 

The  waves  came  playing,  up  to  the  rocks  that  edged 
the  precipice's  foot,  waiting  for  the  young  man  who  had 
no  way  to  go  but  downward ;  and  who,  though  we  have 
been  long,  had  not  been  able  to  stand  still  an  instant. 

Down  he  came,  like  an  avalanche ;  the  cheaty  gravel 
giving  way  from  his  feet ;  all  the  on-lookers  breathless, 
above  and  below ;  the  cold  waves  frolicking  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  deep  sea ; — but  the  young  man  did  not  give 
himself  up  to  the  usual  fortune  of  heroines  or  heroes. 

With  a  strong  will  he  conquered  what  could  almost  be 
iailed  a~fiairX8o  ileeplfiirine  ]n«ci^^  down  which  ^r 


A  PRETTY  SCENE  AND  ITS  BREAKING-UP.        25 

came,)  and  controUed  it  as  if  he  had  been  winged  He 
went  down  aslant,  the  gravel  rattling  down  at  every 
slight  touch  of  his  foot  on  the  face  of  the  steep,  and  ere 
one  could  tell  how,  he  was  three  hundred  yards  away,  at 
the  edge  of  the  water  on  the  Uttle  beach  beyond  the  great 
hill.  Before  he  reached  the  rocks  at  the  further  end  he 
had  checked  himself,  and  not  even  the  shallow  waters  on 
the  sand  had  so  much  as  touched  his  feet    * 

"  Well  done ! "  said  the  man— a  fisherman  very  sHhb- 
bily  dressed— who  was  stiU  standing  at  the  top  against  the 
sky.     He  saw  the  danger  at  an  end,  and  then,  turning, 
w^away.     Now,  therefore,  the  scene  without  the  dan- 
•  gP[had  only  beauty  in  it     The  waves  ran  away  from 
^^Jjie^wind,  sparkling  in  the  sunlight ;  a  Uttle  saU  was  flit- 
ting  over  the  farther  water;    and  the  maiden,  whose 
glancing  eye  had  followed  the  young  man's  giddy  run, 
had  a  new  color  in  her  cheek.     She  had  jsvaited  among 
the  crowd  of  mischievous  waves  at  a  few  fathoms'  length 
from  the  shore,  and  now  that  it  was  clear  that  he  needed 
no  help,  she  turned  again  her  little  vessel  toward  the 
land.    Midway  to  the  rocks  floated  a  straw  hat,  half-sunk, 
which  the  wmd  had  snatched  from  the  young  man's  head 
as  he  came  down,  and  thrown  there. 

"  Min'ter's  dog ! "  cried  litUe  Janie,  attracted  now  by  the 
approach  of  the  great  black  fellow  panting  over  the  wave- 
tops,  his  long  black  hair  floating  wide.  The  young  man 
[who  had  just  token  the  wondrous  flight  had  now  seated 
j  himself,  flushed  and  panting,  on  one  of  the  rocks.  Ab 
the  dog  neared  the  hat,  Lucy  was  too  quick  for  him,  and 
drew  it,  dripping,  into  the  boat  4 

"I'll  leave  the  oar  for  him,"  she  said ;  and  the  brave 
brute,  having  turned  up  a  kindly  face  to  her,  made  for  the 
floatiiig  oBr,imi^flgiabg  K  By  {Be  hand-part,  bore~^~~ 


S6 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


'-  \ 


» 


y^h  it  against  both  wind  and  tide  toward  the  little  beach. 
That  was  the  place,  also,  of  the  punt's  destination,  toward 
which  it  was  now  urged  gracefully  by  the  maiden  who 
stood  sideways  in  it,  as  men  stand  at  sculling,  and  looked 
forward  with  bright  eye  and  lips  apart  and  flowirtg  hain 

A  company  of  neighbors  had  gathered  hastUy  at  the 
beach,  four  or  five  in  number,  and  near  them  stood  the 
Mmister ;  and  in  aU  faces  were  excitement  and  curiosity. 
Before  her  boat  touched  the  sand,  Lucy  seated  herself 
npon  a  thwart  and  modestly  put  on  her  shoes.  The  per- 
former  of  the  late  feat  stiU  sat  apart,  getting  his  breath 
again. 

«I  don't  see  the  man  that  staid  at  the  top  of  the  hUL 
said  the  Minister. 

«'Tw*8  WiUum  Ladford,  sir;  'e  've  gone  away,  see- 
munly.  'Ee  know  'e's  very  quite,  and  keeps  to  'isself, 
mostly,"  answered  one  of  the  women  who  were  eagerly 
waitmg  for  the  explanation  of  the  strange  things  that 
*ney  had  just  seen. 

"  Did  'e  push  un  off,  do  'ee  think.  Prude  ? "  inquired 
one  of  the  most  eager. 

«  Oh,  no  I  what  would  'e  push  un  for  ?  Will  Ladford's 
too  sober  for  pl'y,  an  *e's  too  paceable  for  mischief." 

The  short  colloquy  was  deserted  hurriedly,  as  the  boat 
came  sliding  up  the  beach,  and  its  fair  sailor  leaped 
blushmg  from  its  gunwale  to  the  sand.  Lucy,  first  curt- 
seymg  to  the  Minister,  was  bearing  the  trophy  rescued 
from  the  water,  to  its  owner,  when  little  Janie  was  in- 
stantly  beset  by  two  or  three  of  the  most  enthusiastic 
tequirers  after  truth,  who  questioned  her,  half  aside,  and 
half  with  a  view  to  being  overtieard. 

"Where  did  Mr.  Ureton  come  from,  Janie?"—"  What 
-^x—  ^  uuutt  more,  luajr^wm  offi^— -  WnM  mde  un  go 


-.^  i*f>^,^»i'f 


A  PRETTY  SCENE  AND  ITS  BREAKING-UP.        «7 

down?"  were  the  assaults  of  three  several  female  mind* 

.at  the  subject     Little  Janie  was  bewildered  .    / 

«He  couldn't  keep  his  footing,"  said  Lucy,'  hearing 

and  ^swenng,  although  she  had  no  more  information 

than  the  questioners  might  have  had;-a  circumstance 

that  perhaps  did  not  occur  to  her. 

over,isn'  e?"  said  one  of  the  questioners,  in  a  kmd^ 
Side-speculation,  with  a  good-natured  laugh  and  pleasant 

"  But  I  don't  think  he  tumbled  over  the  top,"  ventured 
Lucy,  a^,  who  saw  the  absurdity  of  hi,  not  being  able 
to  keep  h,s  foofng  on  a  highway  whose  width  .4=hed 
the  stately  dunension  of  ten  (at  least,  eight)  feet,  statute 
measure,  anS^kindly  wished  to  protect  hif^u^^t^ 
a  charge  of  such  preposterous  clumsiness. 

The  qu«,tioner  had  been  longer  in  the  worid  than  our 
young  maiden ;  and  she  advanced  with  her  next  question, 
m  this  waj : —  ^ 

"Oh I  -e  was  n-  walkin  on  the  road,  was  'e?  but  pli»». 
unn  down  the  side , »  and  she  looked  up  the  g«8t  outline 
of  the  hdl,  as  loose  and  graveUy  as  a  fresUy-made  ghcis. 
but  steeper  than  a  Dutch  roof.  The  allusion  threw  tl» 
company  of  women  (who  followed,  at  the  same  time,  the 
d,rect,on  of  her  eyes)  into  a  sudden  laugh,  Lucy,  kiso 
aughed  mnocently,  and  looked  abashed  ,„d  the  S 
ter  who  had  not  yet  resumed  his  walk,  'smiled  with  them. 

J^'      K       **  °^  ''"  ""  ™  "<«  unobserved  by  the 
^er,  who  turned  again  to  her  charge,  with  new  Lu, 

addressmg  th«  neighbor-women  :-^  ^^. 

tariff  ^  ''"  *'"■'>  ''"^'  *»  "«*''  •«'  •«  »  B»ch  . 
«gfcje  hairr  togit  rtXr  Do  'co  thiuk,  uiubbe,  It 

♦  WW. 


\    " 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


a  fish  'e  sid  ?     Could  n'  'ave  abin  he  know'd  e'er  a  body 
was  a  walkun  down  on  the  rocks  ?  "  -v 

But  like  the  mouse  who  gnawed  the  toils  in  which  the  ' 
lion  was  inclosed,  an  unexpected  deliverer  came  to  Lucy's 
aid,  just  as,  in  pretty  confusion,  and  blushing,  she  had 
turned  to  busy  herself  about  her  little  sister,  away  from 
the  embarrassment  of  this  unexpected  and  hitherto  uride- 
tected  attack.  Urston  was  just  coming  toward  her  from 
his  resting-place  upbn  the  rock ;  but  it  was  little  \Ianie 
that  brought  the  rescue.  " 

"I  think,"  said  she,  very  gravely  and  sententiously, 
" 'e, wanted  to  get  my  s'awl." 

"  You  funny  little  maid ! "  cried  her  elder  sister,  laughing. 
«  And  'e  failed  down  ;*l  continued  the  little  explorer  of 
causes,  io  make  her  statement  of  the  case  compjiete. 

"  Janie's  handkerchief  blew  up  against  the  little  tree 
on  the  hillside,  and  held  fast,"  explained  Lucy  to  the 
women,  who  had  interrupted  theu*  raillery,  and  with  their 
eyes  sought  further  explanation ;— «  and  so  she  thinks  he 
was  trying  to  get  it,"  she  continued,-  turning  on  him,  as 
he  c^me  up,  a  look  the  brighter  and  prettier  for  her  con- 
fusion, and  with  a  tone  as  if  she  were  near  thinking  th.at 
Janie's  was  the  true  explanation.- 

Urston  did  not  look  like  a  fisherman,  though  he  wore 
the  blue  jacket  and  trowsers ;  and  his  eye  had  evidently 
been  familiar  wiQi  other  things  besides  the  way  of  the 
wind  on  the  water,  and  the  "  lay  "  of  the  rocky  land."  At 
the  moment,  he  still  showed  in  his  face  the  excitement  of 
his  late  adventure,  an^  breathed  hard  from  the  struggle 
by  which  he  had,/x)nquered. 

"Thank  you,"  said  he,  looking  as  ^^11  as ' speaking,* 
while  he  took  kis  hat  from  the  fair  hand  that  bore  it 
-*4Et  wasn't  my  feullif  lTti&^r|fet  a  gooa  dlicMng,  m^ 


-*, 


y 

A  PRETTY  SCENE  AND  ITS  BREAKING-UP.        29 

"  Why,  jou  came  down  with  a  swoop,  like  a  sea-goU !  ** 
said  the  Minister,  who  was  not  far,  off;  «  how  you  ever 
managed  to  give  yourself  that  turn  in  to  the  beach,  I  don't 
know.— Your  crown  odght  to  be  made  of  something  better 
than  straw,  for  a  feat  like  that." 

"  I  suppose  it's  something,  when  you've  made  a  blunder, 
to  get  the  better  of  it,"  said  the  young  man,  modestly. 

"That's  the  way  the  best  part  of  us  is  brought  ouft, 
often,"  answered  the  Parson,  drawing  a  moral,  as  men  of 
his  cloth  will;  "but  if  you  always  manage  to  tumble 
down  as  strongly  and  safely  as  you  did  just  now,  you  can 
take  good  care  of  yourself  in  the  world."  ' 

The  maiden's  bashful  eye  and  cheek  and  mouth  bright- 
ened and  quickened,  with  a  sweet  unconsciousness,  at 
this  compliment;  but  there  were  other  interested  persons 
who.did  not  forget  themselves  \ 

"Did'ee  get  mys'awl.?"  inquired  little  Janie,  as  the 
Mmister  walked  away,  to  the  road. 

The  young  man  smiled,  and,  putting  his  hand  into  his 
jacket-pocket,  drew  forth  and  spread  before  their  eyes 
the  missing  treasure,  and  then  returned  it  to  its  owner. 
She  took  it  with  joy  (and,  no  doubt,  thankfulness)  j 
but  her  countenance  fell,  as  she  remarked  that  "it  was  aU 
full  of  prickles  I "  •        '   -' 

Some  one  of  the  women  made  (in  an  undertone, 
which  could  be  heard  at  some  distance)  her  comment. 
thus  :-^ 

"  It's  my  thought  ef  Janie  had  n'  'ad  a  sister,  'e  wouldn' 
ha'  doned  it." 

At  or  about  the  utterance  of  this  speech,  Lucy  with- 
drew,  with  Jamie,  along  the  path  which  she  had  been 
travei-sing  a  shoct  time  before 


") 


'tj?' 


,'  '*)(!»« 


r  t 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 

safe  to  land  and  carried  it  up  high  and  dry  upon  the 
beach,"  and  left  it  there,  came  back  to  perform  his  vtoilet 
where  he  could  have  the  society  and  receive  the  con- 
gratulations of  his  friends.  He  took  his  position  near  the 
last  speaker,  and,  with  special  precision,  spattered  her  all 
over,  from  head  to  foot  Those  in  her  neighborhood  did 
not  quite  escape ;  and  the  gathering  dispersed,  with  good- 
natured  and  rather  noisy  precipitation. 

Epictetus,  for  his  part,  went  off,  also,  in  search  of  the 
Minister,  his  master. 

While  Urston  busied  himself  with  the  boat,  two  women, 
walking  away  more  dehberately  than  the  rest,  sai^^ne 
to  another :  "^ 

**  Ef  'e  wants  to  go  a-courtun  e'er  a  maid  in  Peterport, 
*e  might  jes  so  well  look  a'  to'ther  side  o'  the  house,  to  my 
thmkin'." 

« Ay,  as  come  after  Skipper  Greorgie's  da*ghter,"  said  . 
her  neighbor.  .    . 

Young  Urston's  case  was  this:  his  father,  bom  and 
bred  a  gentleman,  (as  was  said,  and  as  seemed  entirely 
likely,)  had,  as  others  like  him  have  done,  come,  young, 
to  Newfoundland,  and  become  a  planter.  He  had  mar- 
ried a  pretty  woman,  half-sister  of  Skipper  George's  wife, 
but  owing  to  difference  of  religion,  (the  Urstons  being 
Roman  Catholics,)  the  two  families  had  had  little  inter- 
course. 

The  boy  grew  with  finer  instincts  and  quicker  faculties 
than  common  ;  taking,  it  seemed,  from  both  parents  ;  for 
the  mother,  also,  was  not  only  a  fair  Irishwoman,  but  one 
of  feeling  and  spirit  She  died  early ;  and,  while  she  was 
dying,  commended  the  fostering  of  her  child  to  an  attached 
servant ;  and  the  two  parents  devoted  hun,  if  he  lived,  to 
the  priottthood. 


arch  of  the 


A  PRETTY  SCENE  ANDITS  BREAKING-DP.       81 

So,  at  the  age  of  twelve  or  thirteen  years,  Father 
O'Toole  had  taken  him  into  his  own  house,  made  him  at 
first  an  altar-boy,  taught  him  as  well  as  he  could,  and 
loved  him  abundantly.     He  had  no  difficulty  in  keeping 
the  boy's  mmd  up  to  his  demands;  but  after  some  time, 
(it  must  be  owned,)  it  would  have  required  an  eflfort 
which  Father  Terence  would  not  make,  to  keep  it  down 
to  his  limits;  for  the  boy  was  a  very  active  fellow,  in 
mind  and  body;  and  when  he  had  gone  through  all  his 
spiritual  and  religious  exercises,  and  when  he  had  wrought 
out  all  the  work  that  his  dh-ector  could  put  before  him,  must^ 
of  course,  do  something.     By  way  of  vent,  the  good  father 
connived  at  his  reading  any  solid-looking  books  which  he 
.could  borrow  from  friendly  gentlemen  in   Bay-Harbor 
(and  the  yoiA  did  not  fancy  any  thing  lighter  than  his^ 
tory) ;   FatW   Terence,   also,  did   not  trouble  himself 
about  his  pupiPs  sHpping  off,  in  a  blue  jacket,  to  go  out 
upon  the  water:— an  indulgence  understood  to  be  an  occa- 
sional  relaxation  for  the  mind. 

His  own  father  refreshed  the  learning  of  other  years 
for  his  son's  sake,  aUd  taught  him  as  he  had  opportunity! 
At  seventeen  years  of  age,  the  young  candidate'  was  to 
have  gone  to  France  and  Rome,  to  finish  his  preparation  • 
but  herAvas  now  a  year  and  a  half  beyond  that  age ;  for' 
just  as  he  came  to  it,  a  new  priest,  whose  learning  and 
abilities  were  very  highly  spoken  of,  replaced  the  assist- 
ant m  the  Mission  -at  Bay-Harbor,  and,  getting  a  good 
many  things  into  his  hands,  got  this  young  man  away 
from  Father  Terence,  under  rule,  with  hard  penances. 
Suddenly,  Father  Nicholas  went  up  to  St.  Johns ;  was 
away,  from  jponth  to  month,  for  many  months ;  —  and  at 
last,  young  Urston  withdrew,  and  said  «  he  should  star 
Hway."  ^  — 


)(*■' 


^ 


If 


^AU  ^1  ^- )  >i&^i-0&i*r 


\.Mi^<A  ,ri    .•11,-s,. 


l^^KWi'd 


r  ! 


32 


THE  NEW  PfilEST. 


CHAPTER  IV.  ? 

A    "WALK   AND    THE    END    OF   IT. 


~\ 


V 


>T  was  a  delightful  day,  soon  after,  when  Miss  Dare,  , 
who  was  as  much  with  Mrs.  Barre  as  at  her  Aunt's^ 
Mrs.  Worner's,  where  she  was  living,  persuaded  hetjr 
friend  to  a  walk ;  and,  once  out,  they  kept  on,  without  ■ 
turning  cy  flagging,  beyond  sweep  of  road,  hill,  cove,  pass 
in  the  rocks,  the  whole  ]ength   of  the  harbor,  to  Mad 
Cove. 

The  two  ladies  did  not  talk  much  as  they^ji^ent,  but 
they  talked  pleasantly,  and  virhat  they  said  wai^hiefly  of 
the  beauty  of  the  different  views,  wbichr  Fanny  pointed 
out,  on  land  and  water, — and  there  are  very  many  to  be 
seen  by  an  open  eye,  in  walking  down  that  harbor  road. 

The  nearest  house  to  the  top  of  the  slope  in  Mad  Cove, 
was  that  of  Widow  Freney,  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  one 
of  Mrs.  Barre's  pensioners  ;  the  next — a  hovel  at  a  little 
distance — was  that  of  a  man  with  the  aristooratic  name 
of  Somerset,  who  was,  in  American  phrase,  the  most 
"  shiftless  "  fellow  in  the  harbor. 

The  ladies  knocked  at  Mrs.  Freney's  door,  and  the  door 
swung  open  at  the  first  touch. 

The  widow,  however,  seemed  surprised  at  seeing  them, 
and  confused.  The  place  had  been  tidied  up ;  the  chil- 
dren Washed  and  brushed ;  and  Mrs.  FrencY  wore  the 
"bortilre^  tfiiit  TiadnBieir^vin""Eerr^^lk^ 


^1 


ceremonious 


emonious 


A^  WALK,  AND  THE  END  OF  IT. 


9$ 


face.     Slie' asked  the  ladies  to  bfe  seated,  less  urgently  *^ 
•ahd  profusely  than  her  wont  was,  and  answered  with  some ' 
embarrassment.     One  of  her  children  was  aiduT-The/ , 
ladies  did  not  stay.  .  jj,,<     A 

"Oh,  mother!"  exclaimed  a  child,  who  had  opened 
the  door  to  let  them  pass,  "  he's  here  Ijhe  Praest's  here  1** 
Miss  Dare  was  passing  out,  when,  as  the  boy  had  just 
announced,  a  gentleman  was  on  the  point  of  entering. 
Seeing  her,  he  silently  lifted  his  hat  and  drew  back. 

When  Mrs.  Barrfe  came,  he  started  in  extreme  astoQ^li- 
ment,and  was  greatly— even  violently— agitated.  In  a  few 
moments,  he  so  far  recollected  himself  as  to  withdraw  his 
astonished  and  agitated  gaze  from  her,  and  turned  away. 
Mrs.  Barre's  look  was  full  of  the  intensest  feeling, 
Miss  Dare  watched  the  sudden  and  most  unlooked-for 
scene  in  surprised  „and  agitated  silence ;  Mrs.  Freney  aad 
her  fanHly  in  wondering  bewilderment. 

Mrs.  Barr^  spo^^  to  the  priest  ;\er  voice  was  hiokm, 
and  tender,  and  moving.  '?         rf 

"  Shall  I  not  have  a  word  or  look  of  recognition?"  she 
said.  ;/ 

He  tumdd  about,  and  with  a  look  of  sad  doubt,  asked, 
gently,  but>ery  earnestly,  "  Are  you  a  Catholic  ?  " 

She  answered  instantly,  «  Yes  !  as  I  always  was,  ftitd 
never  really  ceased  to  be  for  a  moment." 

Perhaps  Miss  Dare  started,  but  a  glance  at  hun  wooM 
have  assured  her  that  he  was  not  satisfied.  The  doubt 
in  his  look  had  not  grown  less ;  the  sadness  kept  its  place. 
"No  more?"  he  asked  again;  "not  what  I  believed 
^en  we  took  leave  of  one  another?  Not  what  you 
were  in  Lisbon  ?  " 

[rs,  Borr^,  with  a  woman's  confidence  and  directness, 
tumi^d  to  what 


tween  them : — 


must  hav«  be^  a^  eomaaou  naeuwf y 


vojA  I. 


\ 


84 


THE  NESr  PRIEST. 


«  No  more  than  what  I  was  whcjn  I  was  a  happy  wife 
in  Jamaica,  and.had  a  true  and  noble  husband  and, two 
blessed  children!     No  more,  and  the  same  !  " 

She  did  not  weep,  though  she  spoke  w^th  intense  feel- 
ing.    He  seemed  to  feel  almost,  more  8ti(ongly.     He  put 
his  hand  upon  his  forehead,  pressing  both  Ibrows.    Neither . 
seamed  to  regard  the  presence  of  ^witn<^sses  ;  yet  when 
Miss  Dare  moved,  as  if  to  withdraw,  the  pqest /hastily 
begged  her.  not  to  go.  away;  and  then  to  Mrs.  Barr^, 
who  stood  looking  fixedly  upon  him,  he  said  sadly:— 
*'  How  can  I,  then,"but  b&j  farewell  f[' 
"How  can  you  noty  when  I  come  asking ?" 
*  No,"  he  answered,  «I  follow  plain  duty;  and  not  un- 
feelingly, but  most  feelingly,  must  Ba.j  farewett  /  "  and  he 
turned  aqd  w^ed  away  from  the  house,  toward  one  of  the 
knolls  of  rock  and  earth. 

"Then  I  must  wait!"  she  said,  turning  her  look  up 

J^r^J^^  '^^'  ""^^"^  ^^  °°'  ^^^  «^  ^^^^Se  its  face. 
Then  Mrs.  Barre's  strength  seemed  giving  way. 

_^ « Come  back  mto  the  house  and  sit  a  moment,"  said 
Miss  Dare,  who  had   her  arm  about  her;   "and  Mrs 
Freney,  wiU  you  get  a  little  water,  please  ?  " 

Mrs.  Barrfe,  though  unable  to  speak,  mutely  resisted  the 
invitataon  to  go  back  into  the  house,  but  persisted  in  go- 
ing, with  tottering  steps,  up  the  hill  toward  the  path,  and  - 
atiU  kept  on,  though  almost  sinking,  for  some  rods  father, 
--untal  she  had  got  within  the  pass  through  the  rocks,- 
mere  she  sank  upon  a  stone. 

"Thank  you.     Don't  be  afraid  for  me,"  she  gasped;     ' 
minever  fa^t"     Then  resting  her  elbows  on  her  knees     - 
she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  so  sat.     «  Oh  ! 
*  anny,    she  said,  «  you  saw  that  he  was  one  very  near  to 
me,  though  so  utterly  separated !  " 


AjSiiii, 


S 
V 


;       '  A  WALK  4P>  THE  END  ^nf. 

.  .  At  the  Sound  of  a  hasty  step  approaching,  she  started 
and  looked  forth.  It  was  Mrs.  Freney  with  a  paug  of 
water.  ^       "    #      :     ,    *  ^  '    .      , 

"  Here's  some  drink  he  bid  me  bring  'ee  ma'am,"  she 
said,  courtesylng ;  «  an'  sure  I'm  very  proud  to  bring  "it  to 
such  a  kind  lady  as  y*  are." 

Mrs.  Barrfe  thanked  her,  but  declined  the  water ;  and 
the  woman,  expressing  a  hope  "  that  she  wouldn't  be  the 
worse  of  her  walk,"  offered  to  procure  a  punt  that 
she  might  be  rowed  back,'  «if  she'd  plase  to  let  her 
get  it"  This  offer,  like  the  other,  was  declined,  with 
thanks. . 

The  ladies  walked  back  more  silently  than  they  had 
come,  and  more  slowly,  Mrs.  Barre  resting  more  than 
once  by  the  way,  and  looking  hurriedly  backward,  often. 
At  home  she  threw  herself  down,  and  lay  long  with  her 
face  buried.  At. length  she  rose,  and  wiping  away  her 
tears,  said  :-^ 

"Ah  Fanny,  it  isn't  right  that  a  bright,  yomig  spirit 
like  yours  should  have  so  much  to  do  with  sorrow.  Your 
day  is  not  come  yet" 

"  You  don't  know  that,"  said  her  friend,  smiling,  and 
then  turning  away.  «  Perhaps  tW  was  the  very  thing 
that  brought  me  to  you." 

Mrs.  Barr^  drew  her  to  herself  and  kissed  her.  The 
tears  were  falling  dowH  Fanny's  cheeks  this  time. 

A  sweet  breath  of  summer  air  came  dirough  the  open 
wipdow. 

"  You  brave,  dear  giri !  "  said  the  widowed  lady,  kiss- 
ing her  again. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Fanny,  shaking  the  tears  away; 
"but  will  you  let  me  be  wise— though  I  haven't  had 
much  to  do  with  Romnn  Catholics  .  and  u^jmnotto 


'«•> ' 


'\4. 

I' 

v. 


■v 
I 


86 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


pose  yourself  to  this  Romish  priestj  even  if  he's  your  own 
brother!  Let  him  go,  won't  you?  You  can't  do  him 
tuiy  good,  and  he  won't  do  you  any." 

"  Nothing  can  make  me  k  Roman  Catholic ! "  said 
Mrs.  Barre,  "  and  I  can't  help  having  to  do  with  him. 
I  wouldn't  for  all  this  world  lose  my  chance  !  " 

"  Ah  !>.  but  we  think  our  own  case  different  from 
others,"  said  Miss  Dare. 

"  If  you  knew  what  was  past,  Fanny,  you'd  trust  me 
for  what's  to  come,  under  God.  If  I  come  to  too  deep 
water,  be  sure  111  ask  Mr.  Wellon." 


«     . 


f 


PS?^*^  aJ^^rfPi^iin*^ 


1;^ 


A  FEW  MOMENTS  OP  TWO  LIVES. 


87 


"v'. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A   FEW  MOMENTS    OF  TWO   YOUNG  PEOPLE'S   LIVES. 

)  WO  or  three  days  passed  before  our  young  people, 
who  separated  at  Whitmonday  HiU,  met  again. 
The  night  had  been  r^ny;  but  the  morning 
was  delightful.     An  occasional  c^oud  floated,  like  a  hulk 
from  last  nightV  battle,  across  the  sky ;  but  the  blue,  where 
It  appeared,  was  of  the  very  bluest ;  and  the  air  fittest  for 
bredthing  and  being  glad  in.     The  high,  rocky  walls  of 
coast,  the  ridges  and  the  far-off  woods,  were  as  fresh  and 
clear  as  could  be ;  the  earth  was  cool  and  strong  under 
foot,  and  one  might  feel  the  wish-wash  of  the  water  where 
he  could  not  hear  it. 

'  Skipper  George  had  part  of  his  old  father's  garden,  on 
the  slope  below  the  ridgy  boundary  of  the  little  plain 
on  which  his  own  house  stood,  and  Skipper  George's 
daughter,  like  other  maidens  of  thq  land,  was  early  busy 
im  It,  full  of  the  morning  freshness  and  beauty  of  the  day 
lA  step  drew  near,  and  James  Urston,  coming  to  the  fence,* 
.ished  her  "good  morning,"  and  lifted  his  hat, gracefully, 
«  If  he  had  had  his  schooling  somewhere  abroad. 

Oh,  James!"  said  she,  looking  up,  with  her  face  all 
S^lowing,  "you  hurt  yourself  the  other  day  f" 
"No.    I've  got  over  it  before  this;  it  was-nothin^r." 


rffieWc 


ffidrhing; 


•< 
& 


'4 


.»»»*■ 


if 


88 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


"  It  might  have  been  something,  though.  You  shouldn't 
have  run  the  risk  for  such  a  trifle." 

"  There  was  no  risk ;  and  if  there  had  been,  it  wasn't 
for  little  Janie  only  that  I  got  the  '  shawl.' " 

Lucy's  bright  eyes  perhaps  looked  brighter. ,  "Are  you 
going  out  on  the  water  to-day  ?  "  she  asked,  changing  the 
subject. 

"  Yes,  To-day,  and  To-morrow,  and  To-morrow,  I  sup- 
.  pose ;  but  I  hope,  not  always !  " 

"  Would  you  go  to  Bay-Harbor  again  ?  " 

"  Never  on  the  old  errand,  Lucy ;  I  can  have  a  place 
in  Worner,  Grose  &  Co.'s  house;  I  think  Miss  Dare 
must  have  spoken  about  it." 

"Did  you  know,"  said  Lucy,  drawing   nearer  to  the 
fence,  ahd  bashfully  hesitating,  "  that  she  had  spoken  to  . 
the  Minister  about  making  me  mistress  in  a  school?" 
The  maiden  blushed,  as  she  spoke,  and  very  prettily. 

"And  he  will;  won't  he?"  said  Urston,  interestedly, 
but  rather  gravely. 

"  Oh  I  I  don't  know ;  he  told  me  that  he  might  be  able 
to  soon ;  but  I  don't  think  there's  any  place  for  me," 
she  answered,  bnsying  herself  with  the  garden. 

"  Yes ;  and  more  than  that,  by  and  by  !  "  said  Jie,  decid- 
edly.— A  riice  ^r  could  have  detected  a  little  sadness 
in  the  tone  with  which  he  said  these  v^ords  of  happy 
augury. 

She  looked  hastily  up. 

"And  some  of  these  days  you^U  be  a  morchant  I "  she 
said. 

**#Sbm«<Atn5r,- please  Grod;  something,  Lucy,  that  wants 
mind  in  it,  I  hope,  and  that  one  can  put  some  heart  in, 
too ;  something  that  will  give  one  chancy  to  think,  and 

t^MXLit^  cutiir  Utt V  tliK  tTfrcC  TWfftrfr  TKJ  x  IIATO* 


% 


'^f ' 


A  FEW  MOMENTS  OF  TWO  LIVES.  89 

"Oh,  you'll  go  on  learning,  I'm  sure,"  she  said;  "you 
know  so  much,  and  you're  so  fond  of  it." 

The  morning  was  fresh  and  clear,  the  water  bright  and 
living. 

"  You  think  a  good  deal  of  my  knowing  a  little  Latin ; 
but  only  think  of  what  other  people  know !— this  very 
Father  Nicholas  at  Bay-Harbor.  Tou  know  ten  times 
as  much  that's  worth  knowing  as  I  do ! " 

"Oh!  no,"  said  the  maiden,  "it  wasn't  the  Latin, 
only — " 

"I  know  the  'Hours,'  as  they  call  them,"  he  said, 
smiling,  "  and  some  of  the  '  Lives  of  Saints.' " 

"  Oh,  no  I  all  those  books  that  the  lawyer  lent  you." 
"  If  it  hadn't  been  for  those,  I  should  have  been  worse 
yet;— Father  Terence  hadn't  many;— yes,  I've  read 
enough  to  want  to  know  more;— biit  the  pleasantest 
readmg  I  ever  had  was  reading  your  EngUsh  Bible  with 
I  you  those  two  times." 

'i^"  Was  it,  really?"  the  maiden  asked,  with  a  glad  look, 
jin  her  simplicity,  and  then  she  blushed  a  little. 

'*  Yes;  I've  got  every  word  of  what. we  read,  as  if  it 
Iwere  written  in  my  mind  deeper  than  ever  those  North- 
Hen  cut  their  words  in  the  rock." 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  looking  beautifully  thought- 

il  out  into  the  air;  but  then  suddenly  recalled  herself 

|knd  said, —  ' 

"  But  they  cut  their  words  deeply,  to  stand  till  now, 
-es  after,  with  the  sun  shining  on  them,  and  the  storm 
itmg  against  them,  and  the  ice  freezing  over  them 
Nar  after  year,-if  they  are  there,  as  people  say." 
"  There  are  writing,  in  the  rock  ;  but  I  don't  know  if 
piere  are  any  of  the  Northmen's.      It   Hn»an'.    ^^^.^ 
mami  no  one  sees  or  cares  for  them." 


»      I 


40 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


"  Men  oughtn't  to  forget  them ! "  she  jsaid,  with  glisten- 
ing eyes.  ^ 

*  "  Poor  men ! "  said  Urston,  in  hifir^lum,  "  they  ho{)ed 
for  something*  better !  But  hopes  are  happy  things  whilo, 
we  have  them,  and  disappointed  hope  doesn't  hurt  dead 
men.    It's  the  living  that  feel." 

The  young  man  said  this  as  if  he  had  begun  a  man's 
life,  such  as  it  is,  most  often.  Perhaps  he  thought  only 
of  one  disappointment,  that  at  Bay-Harbor. 

Lucy  was  busy  again  with  the  garden. 

By  and  by  she*  asked,  "  What  do  you  think  they 
wrote?" 

"Perhaps  only  their  names;  perhaps  the  names  of 
some  other  people  that  they  cared  for  at  home ;  and  the 
time  when  they  came."  '  '  ^ 

"  There  may  be  grave-stones  as  old,"  Lucy  saidj  "  but 
this  seems  stranger,  cut  by  strange  men  on  a  great  cliff 
over  the  sea ; — I  should  Uke  to  look  foi*  it." 

"You  ^now  they  say  it's  somewhere  on  the  face  of 
Mad-Head,"  *  said  Urston ;  then  looking  towards  the 
ndge,  he  said,  "  Here  comes  my  father  ! "  and  wished  her 
hastily  «  Good-bye ! " 

*  So  it  is  believed,  in  Peterport,  of  a  certain  cliff;  and,  very  likely, 
in  otlier  places,  of  other  rooks. 


"^  5. ■*>■«■  '''f   ^i"  ^vffjv"  T  f^-^^^'^'V^'^^  ^^^■^, 


A  WRITTEN  ROCK,  AND  SOMETHING  MORE.       41 


^ 


CHAPTER 


A    WRITTEN    ROCK,'  AND    SOMETHING   MORE. 

I^R.  SMALLGROVE,  not  jealous,  had  iivited 
Skipper  George's  daughter  to  come  in,  as  often 
as  she  pieced,  to  the  school ;  and  generally  con- 
trived to  make  this  something  more  than  a  compliment, 
by  getting  her  occupied,  when  she  came,  with  teaching  the 
more  advanced  scholars,  while  Mrs.  Smallgrove  taught 
the  younger,  and  he,  with  cahn  authority,  presided. 

This  day  Lucy  Barbury  had  sought  the  scholastic  haU, 
and  there  Miss  Dare  calletj  for  her,  just  jis  school  hours 
were  over.       ,  .  .  " 

The  haunts  of  childhood  have  an  attractiveness  of  their 
own  about  them,  for  those  t^at  wete  children  once,  and  Miss 
Dare,  as  Lucy  came  bashfully  out,  pointed,  with  a  silent 
smile,  to  the  stain  made  upon  the  door-post  by  little  hands 
holdmg  against  it  while  little  feet  were  hfted  to  the  height 
of.  the  threshold ;  and  read,  with  a  smile,  a  legend  traced 
with  tar  upon  a  bit  of  board  wjiich  leaned  against  the 
school-house.  It  was  a  timely  moral  for  the  young  vota- 
ries of  science,  indicted  by  one  of  themselves,  inspired:— 

"  Yo  that  woollarn, 
Don  fall  Kstarn." 

^    "I'm  going  down  to  make  some  drawings,"  6he  said, 
-'Myoukl  ytm  4ike  lo  go,  Misg  fcirey  ^arburyT"  =^=- 


..xAaiCliK 


42 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


[^  "Yes,  if  you  please,  Miss  Dare;  if  you'a  like  me  to. 

Are  you  going  to  Mad  Cove  ?  "  ,        . 

«No;  I  wasp't  going  to  Mad  Cove,  but  I  wiU  go,  if 
you'd  Uke  it." 

"I  think  that  writing  must  be  so  strange,  that  they 
say  the  Northmen  left  oft  the  Head  ages  ago." 

"  But  why  out  of  all  the  ages,  is  it  so  interestinff  to- 
day?" , 

"I  only  heard  to-day  where  it  was.     Do  you  think  it 
is  their  writing,  Miss  Dare  ?  "    • 
•.       "  So  it's  thought ;  but  it  isn't  always  easy  to  Inake  sure  ~ 
of  such  things.     I  saw  an  account  of  a  stone  dug  up,  the 
other  day,  in  the  United  States  somewhere ;  and  an  In- 
dian scholar  said  that  the  letters  were  hieroglyphics,  and 
meant  thAt  '  seven  sons  of  the  Black.  Cloud  made  three 
hundred  of  the  Wolfs  cubs  to  fall  like  leaves  of  the 
forest;'  and  a  great  Oriental  scholar  read  it,  'Here  the 
Brothers  of  the  Pilgrim  rested  by   the   graves"  of  the 
dead ; '  and  he  said  it  was  a  trace  of  the  lost  tribes  of 
Israel;  but  a  scholar  in  tlie  Scandinavian  languages*  of 
-    Sweden  and  Denmark,  said  it  was  a  relic  of  the  -North- 
men,  who   w'ent  from   those   countries    and  discovered 
North  America;     and  that   it  meant,   'In   the   rolling 
fields  we '^  make  our  home  that  used  to'  have  a  home 
on  the  rolling  Waves.'     And  there  it  is,  you  see.     This 
writing  on  our  rock  is  also  said  to  be  by  those  North- 
men." * 

"And  it  may  be  by  Captain  Cook,  who  set  up  the 
stones  at  Sandy-Harbor,"  said"  Lucy,  smiling. 

"Yes;  it  may  be,"  said  Miss  pare,  assenting  to  the 
possibility  suggested. 

"But  it  inay  be  'by  those  men,"  said  Lucy  again,  retum- 
ing  to  the  other  poaaibility.^ —  — ■- 


■jifTX'^  --^jpr^j 


i    *   *.     ''*' 


A  WRITTEN  ROCK,  AND  SOMETHING  MORE.       43 

"•Certainly,"  answered  Miss  Dare, ' assenting  again; 
"  and  it  may  be  by  the  Lost  Tribes." 

Lucy  kindled  as  if  a  spirit  of  the  old  time  came  over 
her.  Her  eyes  swelled  and  brightened,  and  she  grew 
pale. 

"If  it  were,  they  ought  not  to  leave  it  hanging  out 
there  over  the  sea;  but  I  suppose  they'd  be  afraid  to 
move  it/'  said  she.  "And  if  it  w^e  those  TSTorthem  men 
had  written  there,  I  should  almost  be  afraid  to  Took  at  it 
salong  after  they  were  gone;  it  would  be  ahnost  as  if 
they  had  come  back  again  to  do  it ;  hut  th^y  did  some- 
times wHte  simple  little  things  hke  a  man's  natae,  didn't 
they,  Miss  Dare  ?  " 

"  That's  been  a  trick  of  the  whole  race 'of  men  in  aU 
ages;  writing  their  own  names  and  other  people's,'' Said 
Miss  Dare,  "  on  walls,  and  trees,  and  rodks." 

It  took  them  a  good  half-hour— though  they  walked 
weU-to  get  to  the  mysterious  rock,  over  Whitmonday 
Hill  and  by  Frank's  Cove  and  lesser  neighborhoods;  but 
pleasant  talking  about  many  a  pleasant  thing,  and  frequent 
greetings  to  the  neighbors,  as  they  passed,  perhaps  made 
the  time  short. 

By  and  by  they  stood*  on  M^d-Head;  the  fresh  wind 
blowmg  in  from  the  bay;  the  great  waves  rushing  up 
and  falling  back  far  down  below  them ;  the  boundless 
ocean  opening  forth,  beyond  Bacaloue  Island  ;  this  cruel 
sea  close  at  hand  beiijg  of  the  same  nature  as  that  with- 
out, only  aOittle-tamed.  They  bqth  stood,  at  first,  without 
speaking.  At  length  Miss  Dare  recaUed  the  object  of 
their  visit,  and  said,—  . 

"Now,  Lucy,  use  your  eyes,  please;  and  see  which  is 
this  famous  stone.     I  am  ratherv  impatient  now  w^'r^  go 


,-^'- 


'V~j 


i 


u 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


Lucy,  too,  was  quite  excited.  . 

"This  is  the  very  rock,  I  think,"  said  she;  and  she 
,  threw  herself  upon  the  ground,  and  holding  by  an  up- 
standing point  of  the  rock,  and  by  its  edge,  leaned  over, 
bodily,  and  looked  down  the  hollowing  face  of  the  huge 
cliff.  Steady  as  a  girl  of  her  life  was,  in  eye  and  hand, 
she  did  this  with  the  same  composure  with  which  she 
would  have  leaned  over  her  father's  fence.  Miss  Dare* 
threw  back  her  bonnet  and  let  the  wind  do  what  it  would 
with  her  hair,  while  she  got  down  upon  her  knees  and 
looked  over  also.  - 

These  two  pairs  of  bright  eyes  ha^  looked  some  time 
when  they  began  to  make  out  something  like  letters  on  th^ 
great  grained  and  wrinkled  and  iMven  surftice,  and  about 
an  arm's  length  down,  and  yet  so  hidden  by  the  over- 
browing  of  the  rock,  as  not  to  be  seen  without  stretching 
^ar  ov^i^  Fearlessly,  and  full  of  interest,  they  leaned 
over  in  turh  ;  each,  ^Iso,  in  turn,  holding  thje  other. 

"  If  it  should  be  Greek  or  Hebrew,  it  will  be  too  much 
for  me :  Roman,  or  old  English,  or  German  Text,  I  fancy 
we  may  make  out,"  said  Miss  Dare.   "  Stay  1 1  was  reading 

upsidedown,  like  those  inscriptions  in  the  Desert. I'll- 

begin  at  my  end ;  "—and  she  began  drawing.'  «  That  looks 
as  if  it  would  come  out  like  the  old  Black  Letter,  or 
German  Text." 

"James  Urston  might  have  read  it  if  he'd  only  lookedt^ 
he  writes  German  fext  beautifully,  and  knows  all  kinds 
of  writing  I  suppose,"  said  Lucy. 

"  Perhaps  James  Urston  never  heard  of  it,"  suggested 
Miss  Dare. 

"  Oh  !  I  forgot !  he  told  me  where  they  sdid  it  was,  but 
I  don'4;  think  he  had  seen  it,"  said  Lucy. 
" Ah P^Weil,"  Miss  Dare^cohtmued,  keeptriglo Tef 


4^^  ih^tih^^j 


M. 


A  WRITTEN  ilf^K,  AND  SOMETHING  MORE.       45 

wock,  "if  we  tun|' that  upside  down  it^i^ks  like  'IL,' 
certainly;  doesn't  It??  ■  We  must  allow  a  little  for  the 
difficulty  of  cuttingi'ahd  a  little  for  difference  of  writing, 
and  a  little  for  age.  Why,  if  it  all  goes  as  well  as  this, 
we  shall  make  a\iois6  with  it  in  the  world.  Now  you  get 
the  next,  please i—X^ery  likely  a  date!"  added  Miss  Dare, 
in  fine  spirits.  ''^There  must  have  been  a  letter;before  it, 
but  there's  no  ti'acife  of  one  now."  •; 

"  Here  are  two  out  here  by  themselves.  Miss  Dare!" 
said  Lucy,  who  had  been  looking  over ,  at  another  place, 
while  the  drawing  was  made,  and  who  was  excited  with 
her  discovery.     "They're  very  plain :  '  I-V.* "  \ 

"  T\^at  can  that  be  ?  "  said  Miss  Dare.     "  Four  ?  Fo<if 
what  ?    '  I-V.'  it  certainly  is,"  she  said,'  after  taking  he^v 
turn  in  looking  over.     "  Wejl,  we  can't  ^ake  any  >thing 
more  of  it  just  now.    There  are  no  other  letters  anywhere 
along.     Let  us  go  back  to  our  first  work." 

The  next  l6tter  they  pronounced  "  n/'  after  getting  its 
likeness  on  ihe  paper. 

"  That's  no  date,"  said  Miss  Dare  again :  "  *  It  ?  * " 

" '  0,*  "  suggested  Lucy  Barbury  ;  « it  may  be  a  prayer." 
"  Well  thought  again  !  So  it  may  be !  Let's  see,-— 
what's  the  next  ?— '  t ! '  Good  I  But  stay  :  this'U.  take 
down  the  age  of  our  inscription,  mightily,  if  we  make  that 
English.  That  other  letter  's  *  U,*  depend  upon  it  '%s 
U=t=' — some  sort  of  Scandinavian   name— and — <gl! 

*  Utttg/  That  looks  pretty  well  and  sounds  pretty  well. 
Why,  that's  a  grand  old  Norse  name  !  *  Lury  I '  It  sounds 
like   Ruric,   the    Russian   conqueror,    and   *furt,'   and 

*  LURID.'     That's  an  old  Viking." 

"  How   strange ! "  said  the   pretty   fisher's   daughter, 
thoughtfully,  "  that  one  name,  of  all,  should  be  there  j  ajnd 


3-  " 
¥  ■ 


EgW^r^m^^  Just  the  name  makes  us  think  of  a  particular  man,  and 


\ 


k<:ot 


46 


TH^ifEW  PRIEST. 


I  ■ 


>  *" 


y 


how  he  looked,  and  care  something  about  him— doesn't  it  ? 
He  was  the  commander,  I  suppose."  < 

Miss  Dare,  full  of  eager  discovery,  was  bending  ov^r, 
in  her  turn.  It  was  slow  work,  stretching  over,  looking 
carefully,  and  copying  a  littlei  at'^a  tiipe. 

"  We  shall  have  more  trouble  about  the  next  word," 
said  sh^,  "  for  that  won't  be  a  name  ;  they  only  had  one 
name  in  those  days.  It  may  be  '  somebody's  son,*  though ; 
yes,  it  may  be  a  name."  • 

"  And,  perhaps,"  said  Luagr,  smiling,  (for  they  really 
had  but  a  mere  thread  of  conjecture  to  walk  upon,  across 
a  boundless  depth,)  "  perhaps  this  is  no  man's  name.  It 
may  mean  something." 

«  We  haven't  got  that  third  letter  exactly,  after  all," 
said  Mis^  Dare,  comparing  and  correcting.  "  It's  *  C/  not 
*  t.'     It  doesn't  make  a  man's  name  now,  certainly.'' 

"  There's  a  Saint  Lucy,  among  the  Roman  Catholics," 
said  her  namesake.  "  I  suppose  they  landed  on  her  day^ 
just  as  they  did  at  St.  John's,  and  St.  George's,  and  St. 
Mary's,  and  the  rest." 

"This  is  a  Lucy  that  ha§n't  been  canonized  yet,  for 
there's  nothing  before  her  name;  and  I've  got  a  key  to 
the  other,  so  that  it  doesn't  give  me  as  much  trouble  as  I 
expected.     I  believe  it  does  *  mean  something:  " 

Lucy  Barbury  leaned  over  the  rock  again  in  silence, 
but  presently  drew  herself  up  as  silently ;  and  as  Miss 
Dare  looked  at  her  with  a  smile,  she  said,  (and  no  pencil 
could  have  given  the  prettiness  of  the  blushi^  cheek,  and 
drooping  lid,  and  head  half  held  up,) — 
"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  it  is." 
"  B«t  I  do,"  said  Miss  Dare :  « '  ^.^a==V^fi^U'V^S*' 
That's  more  familiar  than  one  of  those  hard  old  Norse 
names,  isn't  it?'   It  aeema  tnht^.  a.  wnrniin^  nqmi' ;  but  it 


1  - 


Tt^TT'T**'^    fK<>«-5);A'^^^"T~' 


A  WRITTEN  KOCK,  AKD  SOMETHING  MOBE.       «- 

make,  you  'think  of  «  particular  Aan,'  perlmp,,  a,  y„„ 
«a^d,_.and   how  he  l«,ked,  and  care  «,„,ethiug  al^u. 

confuBioDi  "I  didn't  know  it  waa  Uiere." 

«NorI,  but  since  it's  there,  somebody  put  it  ,he«>; 
and  somebody  that  understands  German  Text.  But  I 
was  only  in  fun,  Lucy.     Don't  mind  it.     You  didn't  cut 

it  h';"r!df"""  """  ""^  "^^'^  ">  ^'^  'f  *o  '•"■J  <""' 

"I'm  afraid  somebody  'U  see  it,"  she  s5id. 

There  was  indeed,  more  than  one  body  (female-and 
mdeed,an  old  man  too,-)  hastily  getting  up  alongThe 
chff  s  edge,  looking  o^r,  all  the  way  along.  Few  iople 
were  .„  the  Cove  at%,e  time,  and'the  |reafer  p^rf 
he  few  had  been  b«^,  but  still  the  long  sitting,^and 
above  aU  the  strange  doing,  „p  at  Mad-Head,  hfd  not 
been  unobserved,  and  at  length  it  was  impossible  for  the 
(/beholders  to  keep  away. 

"  '  -''"'''.''^•ie™  they'll  see  it,"  said  Miss  Dare,  «a  they 
came  near,  "  and  if  *ey  wer.  to  they  wouldn't  ra^T^l 
out  of  ,t ,  not  many  of  the  »„^  understand  Gennan 
lext    There  are  those  Eoman  letters,  beyond,  that  could 

Tetvise^'^  "'*  ™"*.*"«^  they  wouldn't  U    ■ 

"  I  wonder  what  they  mean,"  said  Lucy,  who,  after  the 

"I  fancy  that  thej  might  be  interpreted  by  one  who 


n 


I: 


'uamUA— k,^ T^  """"6>     «^ti  J1188  Dare,  with 

^*^il.,^but  speaEmg  80  ffiattheai^roachingne^^rs 


48 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


\ 


should  not  hear,— but  I  and  J  used  to  be  the  same  letter, 
and  86  did  V  and  U." 

Lucy  blushed  more  deeply  than  ever  at  the  intelligence 
that  lurked  in  this  sentence. 

"  Oh !  don't  tell  them,  Miss  Dare,  please,"  said  she. 

"  Did  'ee  loss  any  thing,  Miss  ?  "  said  the  foremost  of  the 
advancing  inquirers. 

"  Yes ;  I'm  afraid  we've  lost  our  time ;  haven't  we, 
Lucy?'" 

"I  though?*,  mubb'e  'ee  may  have  alossed  something 
down  the  rocks." 

"  No  ;  we  were  looking  for  the  old  writing,  you  know, 
that  they  say  is  cut  in.  Lucy  here,  had  read  about  such 
things  and  she  was  very  anxious  to  see  one." 

As  Miss  Dare  said  this,  shesiooked  gravely  at  her  com- 
panion, but  that  pretty  maiden  was,  or  seemed,  altogether 
taken  up,  with  the  tie  of  one  of  her  shoes. 

"  Did  'ee  find  'un,"  inquired  another  of  the  curious,  as 
all  their  eyes  wandered  from  one  explorer  to  the  other. 

"  No ;  we  found  some  marks,  but  they  don't  look  like 
old  letters. — How  do  the  fish  go  to-day  ?  " 

"  They'm/hither  sca'ce  Miss,  but  the  bait's  plenty." 

As  Missf  Dare  and  her  scholar  went  home,  they  said 
nothing  more  to  each  other  of  their  discovery.  The 
neighbors,  dispersing  slowly,  wondered  «  what  made  young 
Lucy  Barbury  look  so  frustrated  like,"  and  concluded 
»  that  it  was  because  of  her  not  being  «  so  sharp  about 
they  things  as  Miss  Dare,  and  how  could  she  ?  " 


" 


^^.itei^K.. 


7m  < 


™.,5,.,   ,„,^ 


TRUE  WORDS  ARE  SOMETIMES  VERY  HEAVY.     40 


CHAPTER  Vn.  , 

TRUE   WORDS   ARE   SOMETIMES   VERT  HBAVT. 

)ARLY  next  morning,  whoever  passed  along  that 
part  of  the  harbor,  might  have  seen  young  Urs- 
ton  standing  under  the  Cross-way-Flake,  which 
covers  with  thick  shade  a  part  of  the  Uad  beyond  Mar- 
chants'  Cove,  and  the  approach  to  the  old  unpainted  house, 
m  which,  with  his  youngest  son  and  family,  lived  the  pa- 
triarch of  his  name,  old  Isaac  Barbury,  and  his  old  wife.      . 

I  rem  where  the  young  man  stood,  the  fair  blue  heavens 
without,  seemed  like  smooth  walls  rising  about  the  earth. 
over  the  top  of  which  inclosure  had  now  begu^to  pour         ' 
and  by  and  by  would  come  in  a  flood,  sweepingTwarthJ 
any  walls,— the  fresh  and  glorious  day. 

Steps  drew  near,  on  the  top  of  the  flake,  and  the 
young  man  left  his  standing-place  and  went  forth.    It  was 
a  handsome  weman,  of  middle  age,  who  stood  ^bove,  with  . 
some  hsh  which  she  was  preparing  to  spread,  andwhom^     - 
he  saluted  respectfully,  giving  her  the  title  of  «  Aunt."   ^ 

She  returned  his  salutation  kindly,  but  distantly;  b^    ^ 
as  he  lingered  still  in  silence,  addressed  him  again,  whito.  * 
she  continued  her  work^  | 

^  SI.  asked,  "  Have  you  given  up^being  a  priest,  m.         '^ 

"  Yes !  "  he  answered,  in  a  single  w&rd,  looking  before 
»"m,  as  it  were  nlong  hio  coming  life,  lie 

vnT>.  I.  A 


't;,  ceM... 


^ 


,,.*■ 


'■  t 


^ 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


h'**>>/ 


to  see  how  far  the  uttered  word  would  strike  ;  then,  turn- 
ing to  her,  and  in  a  lower  voice,  added,  "  I've  left  fliat, 
once  and  forever.— But  why  must  I  be  so  strange,  that 
you  call  me  '  Mr.  Urston  ?  * " 

She  looked  at  him  searchingly,  without  speaking.  He 
kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  as  if  expecting  her  to  say 
more;  but  as  she  turned  to  her  work  again  in -silence,  he 
said— "I'm  a  fisherman, just  now;  I  maybe  something 
else,  but  it  won't  be  a  priest'f  ■ 

"James  Urston  !  "  she  said,  abruptly  as  before.     «  Do' 
you  know  you're  trifling  with  the  very  life  ?  " 

The  young  man  started.  "I  don't  understand,"  said 
he ;  «  do  you  blame  me  for  not  being  a  priest  ?  " 

Noj  rm  glad  of  it:  but  what  is  there  between  you 
and  my  dkughter  Lucy  ?" 

The  young  heart,  as  if  it  had  been  touched  in  its  pri- 
^  vacy,  threw  a  quick  rush  of  blood  up  into  frames  Uraton's 
'       face.    "Nothing,"  he  answered,  much  lilce  a  lover ;  being 
-    confused  by  her  suddenness.  A^  ■' 

«  There  ought  to  be  nothing,  anjj'nothing  there  must 
be  !-I've  told  her,  and  I  tej|||^,  Mr.  James  Urston, 
you  must  not  meet  any  mor&r  ' 

J.        "  But  why  ?*'  he  asked,jjot  recovered  from  his  confu- 
sion. /^ 

"  You  can  see,  easily^;'  said  Mrs.  Barbury.  « I  needn't' 
tell  you  why."  -    - 

..m^f  ^J^  '**®^  ^y  '^»nfir  80  hard,  or  that  goes  in  so  deep,  as 
-  r^'.'^'^lPr  toade  ihto  words  ? 

"  No,  r  don't  see,"  he  said.     "  I  see  how  different  she 
18  from  any  one  else." 

How  could  he  let.  himself  see  that  wall,  so  suddenly 
bmlt  up,  but  so  surely  ?— It  was  not,  yesterday. 
=:.^X  know  she  V'sMd  4^  mottwr ,  "itnd-f- 


"i^ 


) 


^ 


-5?^fiv  f  ■3|ff>«  v^r  ^ 


TRUE  WORDS  ARE  SOMETIMES  VERY  HEAVY.     51, 

for  it ;  He  made  her  so :  but  her  feehngs  are  like  other 
peoples,  onlj  they  may  go  deeper.-Thej  can't  be  trifled. 

"How  could  I  trifle  with  her?"  he  asked,  wamly. 

Triflmg  ,s  not  my  character,_with  man  or  woman  I" 

There  was  a  strength  in  this  self-assertion,  in  which  every 

M^ Ilrr  "''  '''  '''"'  *''*  ""*'"'  '"P''"^ 
"I  believe  you  don't  mean  wrong,"  she  said;. "and 
hat  make^  ,t  easier  to  speak  plain  to  you.  I  haven't 
language  hke  yours,  but  I  can  say  the  truth.  I'm  her 
mother,  and  must  answer  to  God  for  what  care  I  take  of 
her.  It  would  be  wrong  for  me  to  let  you  go  on,  and  for 
you  to  go  on,  against  my  forbidding." 

The  yo,mg  man's  face  was  flushed.  Happily,  no  one 
but  Mrs.  Barbury  was  near;  and  happily,  and  mther 
strangely,  no  one  «lse  was  drawing  near. 

"  If  you  forbid  it,  it's  wrong;  I  don't  know  what  else 
should  make  it  wrong,"  he  said. 

"  Biference  o/ra%'on,  James  Urston,"  she  said,  slowly 
and  gravely,-"  as  you  must  know  yourself.  I  wouldn't 
be  unkmd;  but  it  can't  be  ihelped."-it  was  plain  that 
she  wag  thoroughly  resolved. 

He  answered  bitterly ; "    ■ 

"  If  you  Mt  blame  mp  4  not  being  a  priest,  you'll 
take  good  care  that  I  Sver  come  any  further.  TTiere 
mightn  t  always  be  a  difference  of  religion."    • 

Mrs.  Barbury  looked  steadily  at  him,  and  severblyj 
she  said  : —  ^ 

"  I  didn't  think  you'd  given  up  being  a  priest  for  any 
woman — "  ^ 

Urston  did  not  restrain  hims^f,  hnf.  hmi,f>  jn  npnn  her 
BpeeclH—  -    ^^ 


3 


THE  NEW   PRIEST. 


K 


r  '  "  I  n«v«r  gave  up  the  priesthood  for  any  thin^  but  coni- 
aieienice !  because  I  must  be  a  hjpocirite,  if  I  kept  on. '  1 
can't  believe  every  thing,  like  good  old  Father  Terence ; 

and  I  pan't  be  a  villam,  like "  (he  did  not  give  the 

name.)  '  ■%      ..      ^  • 

She  answered : — 

"  Yow  speak  quite  another  way,  when  you  say  that  I 
ought  to  risk  my  daughter  for  the  chance  of  making  you 
a  Protestant !     I've  no  right  to  sell  my  daughter's  soul !  " 

Again  the  young  man  took  fire.  "  We  needn't  speak 
oi  trafficking  in  souls,"  he  said,  "  I'm  sure  nothing  would 
buy  her's,  and  I  wouldn't  sell  mine, — even  for  Lucy  Bar- 
bury."  ' 

"  Then,  do  right ! "  said  the  simple  reasoner  who  was 
talking  with  him.  "You  can't  be  any  thing  to  each 
cjther!" 

J  Gentle  as  her  face  and  voice  were,  the  sentence  was 
not  to  be  clianged.  It  is  not  only  in  drowning,  that  th? 
whole  life  past, — ay,  and  the  future's  hope, — ^meet  in  an 
instant's  consciousness,  as  a  drop  reflects  the  firmament ; 
for,  in  any  crisis  which  has  power  to  quicken  every  fac- 
ulty to  its  utmost,  all  that  is  past  comes  with  a  sudden 
sadness,  and  all  that  might  have  been  ;  while,  at  the  same 
pulse,  comes  the  feeling,  that,  between  past  and  future, 
we  are  losing  hold  and  slipping  down,  forever ;  quitting 
the  results  of  what  is  gone,  and  the  opportunity  of  what 
was  to  come.  Whoever  has  had  the  experience  of  love 
discovered  in  his  heart,  only  that  it  *may  be  chased  and 
killed,  may  know  what  Urston  felt. 

'♦  You  can't  help  what  she  has  been  to  me,"  he  said, 
sadly.  "  You  can't  take  away  the  memory,  at  least  You 
can't  take  away  noble  thoughts  she's  given  me.  You  can 
iAbo  away  wlittt-  -taight^  have  been,  yet,"=hB'add6itilrtl- 


■^|. 


:x^.ti>.. 


If., 


./%* 


VW^f^i 


1^  but  COBH 

lept  on. '  1 
r  Terence ; 
»t  give  the 


say  that  I 
laking  you 
er's  soul ! " 
idn't  speak 
hing  would 
Lucy  Bar- 

?  who  was 
ig  to  each 

itence  was 
g,  that  th^ 
meet  in  an 
irmament ; 
every  fac- 
1  a  sudden 
it  the  same 
ind  future, 
r;  quitting 
ty  of  what 
ce  of  love 
ihased  and 

"  he  said, 

east    You 

You  can 


TRUE  WORDS  ARE  SOMETIMES  VERY  HEAVY.  5$ 

terly,  as  we^as  sadly,  "it's  hard  for  a  young  man  to 
have  to  look  bSck  for  his  happmess,  instead  of  forward  I 
I  didn't  think  it  was  to  be  my  case  !  " 

No  man  living,  and  certainly  no  woman,  could  help 
feeling  with  him.  Mrs.  Barbury  and  he  were  still  alone 
together.     She  spoke  (and  gently)  : — 

"  Happiness  isn't  what  we're  to  seek  for ;  but  it  comes 
after  doing  what's  right— It  isn't  always  easy  to  do  right," 
she  said. 

"Not  so  easy  as  to  teU  others  to  do  it^"  he  answered, 
bitterly,  still.  ^ 

"  And  yet,  it  is  to  be  done ;  and  n^any  have  done  as 
hard  things,"  said  ^r^^arbury,  « and  even  were  the 
better  for  it,  aftendriHjjr 

"When  it  takfUffkj  the  very  best  of  life,  at  the 
beginning  " '-.  The  young  man  gave  way  to  his  feel- 
ings for  a  moment,  and  his  voice  broke. 

"  We  may  live  through  it,  and  be  the  better  for  it,"  she 
said. 

"Take  away  the  best  of  life,  and  what  is  left?"  he" 
,  a^ked,  with  his  broken  voice,  |«vhich  had  been  so  strong 
and  manly  only  a  little  while  before.     "Or  break  the 
heart,  and  what's  the  man,  afterwards  ?  " 

Mrs.  Barbury 's  answer  was  ready,  as  if  the  question 
had  come  to  her  years  ago. 

"A  'broken  heart'  is  the  very  thing  that  God  asks 
for ;  and  if  it  will  do  for  Him,  it  may  do  for  this  world," 
she  said.  "  I  know  what  a  woman  can  db,  James,  when 
she  must,  and  I  think  a  man  should  do  as  much." 

"  llow  do  you  know  ?  "  ho  asked.  «  Not  by  your  own 
feehnjr !  "  > 

"  ^Q-^^by  myjown  feeljng !  " 

The  young  Inan   looked  up  at  the  fair,  kindly  faee, 


•ft- 


r  i 


^   j-^ajsM 


JM. 


tHE  NEW  PRIEST. 


1'+'  .' 


which,  in  familiarity  with  the  free  air,  had  given  away 
some  pf  its  softness,  but,  had  it's  wide,  clear  eye  \in- 
changed,  an^entle  mouth.  v    , 

We,  you^  are  often  bewildered  by  a  glimpse  of  the 
unpublished  history  of  some  one  of  our  elders :  (foi*  the 
best  of  these  2lk^  unwritten,  and  we  sometimes  catch  a 
glance  at  them.) — -Ah !  covetousness,  or  low  ambition,  or 
earnest  drudgery,  as  well  as  hatred  of  mankind,  or  mad- 
ness, or  too  early  death,  has  taken  many  a  one  that  led 
another  life,  up  to  a  certain  time ;  and  then  it  was  broken 
off! 

V  So,  too,  a  happy  peacefulness  and  quiet  strength  have 
taken  place,  like  sunshine,  and  a  new,  green  growth,  in 
many  ^  l^eart  where  the  fierce  tempest  had  laid  waste. 
It  maj^  have  been  so  with  Skipper  George's  wife. 

"  You'd  never  kn6w  from  the  .wa^er,  when  it  lays 
smooth  in  the  sun,"  she  said,  presently,  "  what  storms  it 
had  been  in,  outside. — I  was  as  yoking  as  you  or  Lucy, 


once. 


■'^. 


•She  smiledj  and  it  seemed  almost  as  if  her  young  self, 
fair  and  happy,  cape,  at  a  call,  up  within  her,  and  looked 
out  at  her  .eyes  and  glowed  behind  her  cheek.     Urston 
•  could  not  help  listening. 

"  i  was  brought  up  |n  JEngland,  you  know,  from  a 
child,  in  Mrs.  Grose's  family.  I  was  a  play-fellow  with 
the  children,  and  then  maid. — One  time,  I  found  I  was 
going  to  be  wretched,  if  I  didn't  take  care,  for  the  sake 
of.one  that  wasn't  for  me ;  and  so  I  went  into  my  room, 
and  didn't  come  the  first  time  I  was  called ;  but  when  I 
did,  I  wa.s  as  strong  as  I  am  now."  ■ 

"  You  weren't  in  love  I  "  said  Urston. 

"I  wasn't,   afief wards :  but   I   w^   much   like  you,' 
before     orijy,  1  waan't  a  wfttR^ 


'  ryp'1^4<f' 


J  ^V^V      •%pTS 


TR0E  VOsSi'.  ARE  SOMETIME^  VERY  HEAVY.  55 

She  was  aa  calin  and  strong  in  telling  herlijttle  sjory, 
as  if  it  tad  not  once  touched  her  very  life.    So  the  boat 
swims, -fiill-sailed  and  fearless,  over  the  rock,  on  which, 
;  one  day,  at  half-tide,  it  had  struck: 

"Not  everyone  can  go  through,  so  easily,"  said  the 
young  man,  moodily.  '   .. 

.  "  James  Urston  ! "  said  she,  looking  steadily  m  his  face, 
"you'reaman,  aqd  women's  feelings  are  not  the  easiest 
to  get  over." 

"  Well,  I  can't  stay  here,"  said  he,  looking  out  sea- 
ward, as  so  many  young  loVers  have  done,  before  and 
since ;  some  of  whom  have  gone  forth  wanderers,  accord- 
ing to  their  word,  and  helped  to  fill  the  breath  of  tho 
Northeast  Wind  with  this  long  wailing  that  we  hear,  and 
some  of  whom  have  overcome  or  been  overcome  by  hard 
things  at  home. 

"Take  it  manfully/'  said  the  wdman,  « aiid  you'l)  con- 
quer it."  .    • 

He  pressed  his  lips  together,  ahook  his  iead  once,  with 
a  gesture  of  anguish^  an4  then,  straightening -hungelf  sod 
throwing  back  his  head,  walked  up  the  Jiar|bor.  /*  '■'" 


•I  I' 


y ' 


4 


"  H«  (at  efnr  aUe  &e»cl)Cci)tc,     * 
tSLnn  gei)t  Nfcfits  e&rosses  Habef } 
Wot\i  toem  tn  rt^n  passfret ' 
IBem  trfcjt  }tM  ^tx}  entjtoer."  *• 

It's  only  an  old,  old  story,     *    . 
That  thflib  goes  ^it  little  to  make : 
Yet  to  whomgo  it  iiappens, 
IBs  heart  in  twb  tihit  break,      i 


So 

smgs, 

most 

toufchingly,  the 

1* 
German 

* 

poet,  of  bve,          y^ 

• 

♦  TOefne. 

"•'»••' 


.-■v.... 


I  '"^ 


56 


THE  NEW  PlilESr. 


^r 


vHth  cruel  scorn  tossed  back.     He  sana:  out  of  a  hea 


» 


that  knew  whaW  was  the  dreadful  crush^  and  dizzying,  dl 
8ttt)ying  backset  of  the  life's^  flood,  when  it&  so  many  chan- 
nels, torn  from  their  fastenings  in  another's  being,  lie 
huddled  upon  themselves. 

A  httle  further  up  the  road,  there  is  on  the  left  hand, 
where  the  hill  ^oes  down— rocky,  andsoddy,  and  stony— 
to  the  beach,  a  little  stream,  that  loiters,  (as  it  leaves  the 
bosom  of  the  earth  and  conafes  out  into  the  air,)  just  lopg 
enough  to  ^  up  a  hollow  .with  its  clear,  qool  water, 
artd  then  goes  gurgling  on  its  short  way  to  the  salt  sea. 
There  is  no  superstition  in  the  regard  the  neighbors  have 
for  this  spring;  but  everybody  knows  the  place,  and  some 
have  tender  memories  connected  with  it,  from  gatherings 
6f  lads  an<i  maids  about  it  in  the  clear  summer  evenings. 
Har-pool,  (or  Hare-pool,)  they  call  it. 

If  James  had  thought  of  this  association,  (perhaps  he 
did,)  it  woflld  have  given  another  touch,  still,  to  his  sad- 
ness, to  remind  himself  of  it  at  the  spot ;  but  he  crossed 
over,  and  went  down  to  it,  and,  where  the  streamlet  fell 
out  of  its  basin,  caught  the  cool  water  in  his  hand,  and 
bathed  his  brow,  and  drank. 

His  side  was  toward  the  sun,  that  came  along,  as  he 
does,  in  his  strong  way,  not  hindered  by  our  unreadiness. 
The  young  man's  shadow,  long  and  large,  was  thrown 
upon  the  hill-side.  Another  shadow  joined  it.  He 
turned  hastily,  and  saw  the  old  parish-clerk,  Mr.  William- 
son comiog.  He  went  out  into  the  road ;  met  him,  ex- 
changing" salutations;  passed  under  the  Crossway-Flake, 
and  down  the  harbor. 


:r 


SKIPPKR  GEORGE. 


57 


CHAPTER  VIIL 
SKIPPER  George's  story. 

)N  the  evening  of  that  day,  which  had  been  beautifiil 
to  the  end,  Skipper  Qeorge's  daughter  seemed  more 
fill!  of  life  than  ever.  In  the  last  hour  of  daylight 
she  had  given  her  Jesson  to  her  little  sister,  who  was  qq 
great  proficient  at  learning,  and  who  was,  by  degrees, 
(like  some  other  children,  with  otter  words,)  getting  broken 
of  making  "  c-o-d  "  spell  « ifish."  She  tripped  across  the  ' 
even  ground  in  front  of  the  house,  to  meet  her  father,  with 
a  lighter  step  than  usual,  and  was  busier  than  ever  within 
doors.  When  supper  was  over,  and  aft^r  the  three-"- 
wicked  lamp  in  the  chimney  was  lighted,  she  read,  out 
of  a  book  that  Miss  Dare  had  lent  her,  a  story  of  an 
ancient  mariner,  and  his  strange  voyage ;  while  the  motl»er 
knitjpd  a  pair  of  woollen  leggings  for  her  husband,  and  the 
stout  fisher  sat  upright,  with  Janie  on  his  knee,  sometimes 
looking  at  his  daughter  as  she  read,  and  sometimes  looking, 
musingly,  into  the  £re,  where  the  round  bake-pot  stood^ , 
covered  with  its  blazing  «  splits,"  and  tinkled  quietly  to 
itself.  .  •,.'.'' 

George  Barbury  was  a  large,  strong-bodied  man,  more 

than  six  feet  in  height,  with  a  broad  chest,  and  every  way 

a  pattern  of  »  stout,  healthy  fisherman.  •  His  rusty  clothes, 

—jacket,  and  vest,  and  trowsers,— -patched  evenly  and 

^^aSy  at  the  l:nees  and  elbows,  had  a  manly  Ipok ;  80~ 


, « 


V 


iwy 


r 


rx 


\t 


H 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


Imd  his  shoes,  ^th  their  twine-ties,  and  his.  strong,  thick- 

-^5^1^®*^^^°^'  ^^  ^^^  woollen  shirt,  and  plain  black 
^Eerbftf  round  his  neck ;  but,  above  all,  that  weather- 
beaten  face  of  his,  with  griziled  whiskers  half-way  down, 
and  the  kind,  simple  eyes,  thlt  looked  out  over  aH  at  one' 
and  the  bald  head,  with  grizzled,  curling  locks,  of  those  that 
always  look  as  if  they  nev^r  grew  beyond  a  certain  length 
and  never  needed  cutting.'  AU  this  great,  massive  head, 
and  kindly  face  were  open  now,  for.  in  deference  to  the' 
reading,*^he  Sat  uncovered.     The  little  girl  had  listened, 
at  first,  with  great  interest,  to  the  W(Sidrous  rhyme,  but 
was  soon  asleep,  with  one  arm  stretched  at  length  over 
her*lather'8,  with  the  little,  busy  hand  at  rest,  having 
dropped  t|ie  chip  which,  at  first,  had  illustrated  the  story; 
one  wing  of  her  cap  was  pushed  Up  froift  her  chubby  face, 
and  one  stout  little  leg  was  thrust  forth,  so  as  to  show  a 
shoe  studded  with  nail-heads  all  around  the  sole. 

The  daughter,  by  natural  gift  of  God  ^  happy  growth, 

was,  in  some  ways,  a  different  beitig  from  her  parents. 

Much  beauty  of  outward  things,  much  beauty  of  inward 

thoughts,  and  an  ideal  world,— with  its  sky  above,  and 

earth  and  boundless  sea  below,— which  lies  in  the  mind 

of  every  speaking  or  mute  poet,  as  Ijie  old  Platonists  sup- 

posed  It  to  he  in  the  divine  mind;-these  things  th^  girl 

•saw,  and  her  parents  saw  not;  even  her  mother,  only 

partly.y  In  the  vision  of  these,  the  daughter  was  beyond 

the  one ;  apart  from  the  other.     But  in  how  much  more 

had  she  deep  sympathy  with  them  and  kindred  to  them  » 

because  ^he  had  lost  nothing  while  she  had  gained  so 

much!      AU  human   hearts   and   minds   that   have   not 

quenched  that  light  of  Christ  "that  lighteth  every  man 

■^at  Cometh  ipto  the  worid,"  can  know  and ;  feel  truth, 


r-fromtfae  Blbls  anTPi^yer-look. 


SKIPPER  GEORQK 


^ 


Tong,  thick- 
plain  black 
lat  weather- 
'rway  down, 
r  aH  at  one, 
)f  those  that 
rtain  length 
assive  head^ 
'ence  to  the 
id  listened, 
rhyme,  but 
ength  over 
est,  having 
I  the  story ; 
hubby  face, 
i  to  show  a 
e. 

•py  growth, 
3r  parents, 
of  inward 
ibove,  and 
a  the  mind 
onists  sup- 
?s  thip  girl 
►ther,  only 
as  beyond 
nuch  more 
i  to  them,  • 
gained  so 
have    not 
Jvery  man 
feel  truth, 
irer-l)ook. 


heartiness,  manliness,  womanliness^  childlikeness,  at  sight, 
much  or  a  little ;  and  the  conscience  which  Lucy  brought 
to  judge  of  higher  things  and  things  farther,  was  the  self- 
-same  that  the  rest  of  them  appUed  to  lower  and  near 
things.  Some  sentences  of  false  religion  she  quietly 
changed  in  reading,  and  only  spoke  of  them  when  all  was 
done. 

The  fisherman  approved  the  painting  of  the  icebergs, 
and  the  bending  over,  and  pitching  and  swaying  of  the 
ship,  and  the  shaking  of  the  sails,  and  the  dropping  down 

"  Below  the  kirk,  below  the  hill,  , 

Below  the  light-hou^e  top," 

and  the  mother  approved  the  moral  that  bade  us.  love  all 
things,  both  great  and  smaU,  aftpr  that  more  than  once 
the  tears  had  come  to  her  eyes  as  she  sat  knitting;  and 
Lucy's  voice,  as  gentle  and  mqsical,  and  clear  as  the  gur^ 
gle  of  a  brook  that  the  rain  has  filled,  would  somethnes 
run  fuller,  and  sometimes  break,  and  sometimes  cease  to 
be  h^ard  for  a  while,  and  she  would  sit  and  gaze  at  the 
burnmg  lamp  or  the'fire,  or  up  through  the  wide  chimney 
at  the  starry .^ky ;  and  they  all  thought  that  the  words 
about  the  silent  sea,  and  the  wondrous  harmonies  made 
by  the  blessed  spirits  through  the  sailors'  bodies,  were  ex- 
ceeding beautiful..    And  after  it  was  done,  the  father  and 
mother,  and  the  bright  girl,-.who  had  so  many  more,  and 
so  much  fairer,  fancies  than  they,— -all  agreed  in  this  judg- 
ment :  that  no  naan  had  a  right  to  bring  false  rehgion,  or 
a  lie  against  the  honor  of  God,  into  poetry,  any  more 
than  into  the  catechism. 

"'Tis  n'  right  to  put  in  about  'Mary,  Queen,'  and  the 
'  Motlier  of  Heaven,'— for  I  suppose  'e  was  a  lam'd  man 
TL^^"^^  ^"^^  "^^^^  '^  ^Q"^'^  Lucy?  "  said  the  f&therj  »n 


1  p 


'■f 


a  tone"^^gret;«'e  should  n'help^^ 


"A. 


:-# 


n 


60 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


there's  so  many  taken  by  it,  and  mubbe  lost  foreyer ! 
We  got  no  right  to  'make  mention  o*  they  names  within 
our  lips,*  as  the  psahn  says." 

The  mother  spoke,  perhaps  not  less  sadly,  but  more 
severely : 

"Yes,  child,  ifs  just  that  part  will  do  mischief;"— the 
mother  had  been  a  Roman  Catholic,  it  will  be*  remem- 
bered. "  They  can't  go  such  a  voyage,  or  see  such  sights, 
but  theyjcan  call  her  queen,  and  pray  to  her." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  bright-eyed  daughter.  "It's 
all  a  wild  thing,  and  one  part  no  more  true  than'another ; 
but  I  think  it  might  do  mischief."  ' 

"And  it's  not  well  having  much  to  do  with  Roman 
Catholics/'  continued  the  mother,  more  pointedly,  while 
her  daughter  looked  with  a  fixed  gaze  into  her  face,  drop- 
ping her  eyes  when  her  mother  raised  hers  from  her 
work. 

"  The/m  not  all  bad,"  said  Skipper  George,  "  though 
they're  all  wrong  in  religion  surely.  Thou  wasn't  very 
bad.  Mother,"  he  continued,  with  a  tender  smile  at  his 
wife,  "  when  thou  was  one  o'  them ;  though  'ee  're  better 
sunce,  that's  a  sure  case.  I  walked  a  good  piece  wi'  a 
pleasan'-lookin'  gentleman,  (much  like  a  reverend  gentle- 
man 'e  seemed,)  an'  so  'e  said  we  musn'  think  they'm  all 
bad." 

At  him,  again,  the  daughter  looked  with  a  long,  fixed 
gaze,  holding  her  book  upon  her  knees.  Presently,  the 
fisherman  got  up,  and,  laying  down  his  little  load  at  length 
upon  the  bench,  went  forth  into  the  etening. 

A  full,  round  moon  was  shining  in  a  sky  so  clear  that 

it  seemed,  rqally,  as  if  space  were  empty.     Half  day  it 

was,  and  yet  full  night ;  and  as  T^e  fisher,  crossing  the 

"grcca  belOTe  hii-hoase,  mottttted  the  ridge^md  issn^ 


"^f  ■  r 


' '^  /^f\i'  ^''^"■^'^y^t    ■'*'^?i^ 5g*s"^f  *7;^ 


SKIPPER  GEORGE. 


61 


tiece  wi  a 


against  a  lone  tree  or  mast  that  stood  up  from  the  earth 
of  a  cleft  in  the  rocks,  the  harbor- road  below  him  was 
shown  plainly,  and  the  houses  at  its  side,  and  in  the  cove 
not  far  off,  stood  plainly  outlined, — krger  and  smaller, 
dark  and  white, — spme  in  their  owij  inclosures,  some  as 
if  there  were  no  land  in  any  way  belonging  to  them  but 
tlie  public  thoroughfare ;  yet  was  there  no  sight  or  sound 
of  living  thing,  except  the  frequent  bark  of  dogs,  and  the 
innumerable  waves,  rising  and  falling  everywhere,  in  their 
most  glorious  cloth  of  silver,  which  they  wear  only  at 
such,  times. 

As  he  stood  silently,  a  man  came  near. 

"  A  good  evenun,  sir !  I  beg  pardon  for  makun  so  free 
to  hail'ee,"  said  Skipper  George,  recognizing  the  gentleman 
of  whom  he  had  spoken  a  few  moments  before,  and  who, 
turning  aside,  heartily  gave  back  the  fisher's  greeting. 

"  You  had  the  best  lookout  in  the  neighborhood,"  said 
Mr.  Debree,  walking  to  the  spot  on  which  Skipper  George 
had  been  before  standing  and  looking  abroad  from  it. 
"This  -tree  didn't  grow  here,"  said  he,  looking  up  at 
the  gray  trunk  gUstening  in  the  moonlight. 

"  No,  sir ;  'twas  set  there,"  said  the  fisherman. 

"Is  it  a  landmark?" 

"  'Is,  sir,  it  may  be,  in  a  manner ;  but  not  for  s'ilun  on 
those  waters.  'Twas  set  there  when  riches  was  taken 
aw'y.  Riches  came  agen,  but  'twas  laved,  for  'e'd  larned 
partly  how  to  value  riches." 

The  gentleman  looked,  as  the  moonlight  showed,  inter- 
estedly at  the  speaker :  "  Another  story  with  a  lesson  in 
it  ? "  he  said.  "  If  it  were  not  for  keeping  you  out  so  late, 
I  would  ask  you  to  do  me  the  favor  of  telling  it." 

"  -A.y>  sir,"  said  ^Skipper  George.     "  I  said  there  were 
ly- lessona  Bent  usr"  This  oSFcomed  nearer  to  me 


f 


^5- 


'..^ 


''^Y 


~h 


t2 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


Mfe" 


again  than  the  tother.  I  hope  Tve  lamed  8oraethun>by 
,  that  stoiy !  Fishermen  don't  heed  night  hours  much: 
but  it's  late  for  you  as  well,  sir.  Mubbe  'ee'd  plase  to 
walk  inside  a  bit?"  he  asked,  with  modest  urgency. 
"  R's  a  short  story,  only  a  heavy  one !  " 

"  Another  time,  perhaps,"  said  the  strange  gentleman  ; 
"not  now,  if  you'll  excuse  me ;  but  if  it  wouldn't  be  too 
much  trouble  I  would  thank  you  for  it  where  we  Ure. 
One  hour  or  another  is  much  the  same  to  me.",  ~ 

At  the  first  words  of  this  answer  Skipper  Greorge 
turned  a  look  of  surprise  at  the  stranger,  and  when  the 
latter  had  finished  speaking  asked,  ^ 

"  Be  'ee  stayun  hereabouts,  then,  sir  ?  " 

Perhajis  he  may  have  thought  it  stmnge  that  one  who 
looked  so  like  a  clergyman  should  be  staying  for  any 
length  of  time  in  the  neighborhood  without  being  better 
known.         ^  ; 

"I  am  a  clergyman,"  said  the  gentleman,  frankly; 
"but  not  of  your  church;  and  I  don't  feel  free  until  I'm 
better  knoWn."  \  . »  ■  ■  ,     , 

Skipper  George  apparently  weighed  the  answ^4#^9e 
did  not  urge  his  invitation;    but  his  open  face  1^^^' 
clear  and  kindly  as  ever.  ..    \  w^^«^ 

"Then,  sir,"  said  he,  «ef  'ee'd  |)lase  to  be  seated  here, 
I'd  tell  the  story.  I  know  it  well.'^ 
.  Before  beginning  it  the  fisherm$Lh  cast  a  look  at  his 
house,  and  then  gazed  awhile  updn  the  restless  waves 
which  Sfere  glanced  with  the  gleam  of  treacherous  isyes, 
and  thA-e  were  dark  as  death.  |  :  ^i 

"Do fee  mind  about  ten  years  aglp^  Jii  Newfoundlaiii, 
sir  ?  "  began  Skippfer  George,  turning;  his  steady  eyes  to 
his  hearer,  4nd  speaking  as  if  th0,\l|ate  or  the  years 
T4b&^4ate-htt4^  betm^  painM  i^lblm ;  -*»i3ie"  hard 


r 


-'At' 


'] 


I.',  r^i 


»  . 


SKIPPER  GEORGE. 


68 


re  we  tire. 


3  until  I'm 


year  that  was  when  thej  had  th%  'raUs,'  they  called 
'em?"  '     -*  -     ;.:'-:  ■,.,,■       \.       ..■ 

« Yes ;  though  I  was  in  England  at  the  tune,  I  know 
liretty  well  what  happened  in  Newfoundland.  It  was  a 
sad  time."  .     *  ,  ..  •  ;      -  ' 

"Ay,  sir,  'twas  a  sad  time.     Many  people!  suffered:  "^ 
some  wanted  food,  and  more  agen  got  broken  in  spirit, 
(and  that's  bad  for  a  man,)  and  some  got  lawless  like. 
'IVas  a  sad  time,  indeed ! "     Skippea^orge,  havi^ig  ' 
lingered  thus  before  his  tale,  began  i^^^ttr:     "  Well^  ' 
sir,  'twas  on  the  sixteen  day  of  J#?ip^|  Thursday  ' 
'twas, — I  was  acomun  down  Backsil|Miii»the   GoalL 
hauling  a  slide-load  o'  timber,  an*  m^^g^t^son  Wi' 
me.    It  had  abeen  a  fine  day,  first  goun  off,  (for  a  in- 
ter's day,)  wi' just  a  flurry  o'  snow  now  "and  agen,  and  a 
deal  o'  snow  on  the  ground,  tuU  about  afternoon  it  begun 
to  blow  from  about  west  and  by  nothe,  or  thereaway, 
heavy  and  thick,  an'  growun  heavier  ah'  heavi^,  an' 
bitter  cold.    Oh !  'twas  bittfer  cold !     We  did  n^  say  mMch 
together,  George  an'  I,  but  we  got  along  so  fe6ta»  ever 
we  could.    'Twas  about  an  hour  or  two  before  night, 
rflubbe ;  and  George  says  to  me,  *  L^'s  lare  the  slide, 
Father!'    'Twas  n'  but  we  could  ha'  kep'  on  wi'  it, 
though  'twas  tarrible  cold,  hard  work  j  but  ^twas  so 
thun  else !  . 

"  So  we  turned  tiie  slide  out  o'  the  way  and  laved  her, 
and  comed  on.  'Tvra.^  blowun  gales  up  over  Backside  ; 
we  could  sca'ce  keep  our  feet;  an'  I  hard  somethun  like  a 
voice— I  suppose  I  was  thinkun  o'  voices-r-an'  I  brought 
right  up  into  the  wind.  'Twas  just  like  beun  at  sea,  in  a 
manner,  and  a  craft  driyin'  right  across  our  wake,  an' 
would  ha'  been  out  o'  sight  an'  hearun  in  a  minute.  Then 
fiie~^\ind'^was  the  MitB8ter--(we  M,  n' 


i 


-  -m^m 


64 


i% 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


have  e'«r  a  reverend  gentleman  of  our  own  in  they  days  ; 
but  'e  jived  over  in  Sandy  Harbor  and  'e'd  oose  to  go  all 
round  the  Bay.)     We  could  sca'ce  bide  together,  but  I 
was  proper  glad  to  meet  un,  (for  a  minister's  a  comfort, 
.  'ee  know,  sir ;)  an'  'e  said, '  Is  any  body  outV     <  There's 
two  o'  brother  Izik's  orphans,  sir,  I'm  afoared,  an'  others 
along  wi'  'em,'  I  said.     So  'e  said,  ^  God  help  them  I ' 
*  Where  are  your  two  other  boys,  James  and  Maunsell  ? ' 
'Along  v^i'  brother  Izik's  two,'  I  said.     'Twas  blowun 
tarnble   hard,  "and  cold,  and   thick;    an'   the   Minister 
turned  wi'  us,  and  we  comed  up,  ploddun  through  the 
driftun  snow,  and  ovepthe  rudge.     When  we  opened  the 
door,  first  the  mother  thought  there  was  four  of  us  ;  and 
80  she  said,  ^  James  !'  for  we  was  all  snowed  over;  but 
she  sid  there  was  only  three,  and  'twas  the  Minister  wi' 
us  two,,    So  she  begged  his  pardon,  an'  told  un  our  poor 
boys  were  out  agunnun,  an'  she  was"  an  ole  punt  they  had. 
We  Were  all  standun  (for  we  didn'  think  o'  nawthin  but 
the  boys)  wheH-  two  comed  into  the  door  all  white  wi' 
snow.     'Twas  n'  they  two,  sir,  but  'twas  my  nevy  Jesse 
an    another.     'Haven't   they  comed ?'  'e  said.     'Dear 
what's  keepun  they  ? '  ' 

"  Jesse  had  abin  out,  too,  wi'  Izik  Maffen  and  Zippity 
Marchant,  an'  tliey  were  all  over  to  back-side  o'  Sandy 
Harbor  together ;  on'y  our  poor  young  men  were  afeout 
thi^  parts  of  a  mile  further  ^own,  Jiiubbe.  So,  w^en  it 
«)med  on  fo  blow,  Jesse  an'  his  crew  made  straight  for 
Back-Cove  an'  got  in,  th(f,gh  they  were  weak-haiMed, 
for  one  had  hurted  his  h.-.n  l-wrist,-and  so,  in  about 
three  1.^,  they  got  roind  by  land,  an'  thought  Ihe 
tother  ppor  fel^s  would  do  so  well.  '  What  can  us  do, 
Uncle  Georgie  ? '  'e  said  ;  for  he's  a  proper  true-hearted 
nmn,  sir,  an'  'eWt     ' 


^agajafla-jciymu    '  J^igg^  we  ^iut^prg^ 


<9» 


4 


A 


A" 


E^i^^tA 


i-,*:. 


SKIPPER  GEORGE. 


65 


said  the  Minister;  a^'  so  he  said  a  prayer.     I  make  no 
doubt  I  was  tiiinkun  too  much  over  the  poor  young  fel- 
lows ;  and  the  wind  made  a  tarrible  grsakbellowing  down 
the  chimley  and  all  round  the  houseTarTs^ was  1-uther   . 
aw'y  froni  it  more  'an  1  oUght.     Then  the  Minister  an'     ', 
Jesse  an'  I  started  out.     My  mistresa'didn'  want  n^e  to ' 
go ;  but  I  couldn'  bide  ;  an'  so,  afore  we'd  made  much      - 
w'y  up  harbor  agen  tlie  wind,  an' growun  dark,  (though^ 
twasn'  stoTJwun,)  we  met  a  man  comun  from  tother  side, 
Abram  Frank,  an'  'e  said  last  that  was  seen  of  our  four 
was,  they  were   pullun  in  for  Hobbis's   Hole,  an'  then 
somethun  seemed  to  give  way  like,  wi'  one.of  'era  rowun, 
an'  then   they  gave  over  and   put  her  aw'y  before  the 
wmd,  an'  so  as  long  as  they  conld  see  any  thing  of  'em, 
one  was   standun  up  sculling  astarn.      (That  was  my 
James,  sir ! ")  '  .      , 

A  very  long,  gently-breathed  sigh  here  made  it^lf 
heard  in  the  deep  hush,  and  as  Mr.  Debree  turned  he 
saw  the  sw<»et  face  of  Skipper  George's  daughter  turned 
up  to  her  father,  with  tears  swimming  in  both  eyes  and 
gUstening  on  her  cheek.  She  had  .come  up  behind,  and 
now  possessed  herself  quietly  of  her  father's  hand. 

"  So  we  turned  back,  an'  the  Minister  Wi'us,  ('twas  a 

cruel  ni^jht  to  be  out  in,)  an'  the  wind  a'raos'  took  an' 

lifted  us,  an'  sot  us  down  by  the  foot  o'  the  path  over  the 

rudge  ;  but  when  we  got  atop  here,  and  it  corned  athwart, 

It  brought  us  all  down  kneelun,  an'  we  could  sca'ce  get 

over  to  the  door.     The  poor  mother  got  up   from"  the      - 

chimley-corner  and  came  f^r'ard,  but  she  needn'  ask  any 

thm  ;  un'  there   was  a  pretty  young  thing  by   the  fire 

{this  girl  was  a  little  thing,  asleep,  but  there  was  a  pretty 

young  thing  there)  ihat  never  got  up  nor,  looked  round; 

tw^  Milly  iics3te,that  wa8Tmm-p%Tit  to  Jtim^^"^^ 
Vol.  I.  6  •' 


||ai^^'^^-li^—.^.ii^Aii&^fcdrtBjMl-.    . 


66 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


,/ 


% 


was  to  have  been  married  in  a  wefek,  ef  the  Lord  willed ; 
and  'twas  for  'e's  house  we  were  drawun  out  the  timber. 
She  just  rocked  herself  on  the  bench.— She's  gone,  long 
enough  ago,vnow,  sir! 

"  So  the  Minister  took  the  Book,  and  read  a  bit.  j 
heard  un,  an'  I  didn'  hear  un ;  for  I  was  aw'y  out  upon 
the  stormy  waters  wi'  the  poor  young  men.  Oh,  what 
a  night  it  was  1  it's  no  use !  blowun  an'  bellowun  an' 
freezun,  an'  ice  all  along  shore  to  leeward ! 

"  Well,  4hen,  sir,  about  two  hours  o'  night,  there  comed 
a  lull,  an'  then  there  was  a  push  or  shake  at  the  door,  an' 
another,— an'  another, — an'  another,— (so  it  was,  we  all 
thought,)  and  then  the  door  banged  open.     There  wasn' 
-a  one  of  us  but  was  standlm  upon  'is  feet,  kn'  starun  out 
from  the  kitchun,  when  it  opened.     'Twas  nawthing  but 
cold  blasts  comed  in,  an'  then  a  lull  agen  for  a  second  or 
two.     So  I  shut  to  the  door ;  an'  the  poor  mother  broke 
out  acryun,  an'  poor  Milly  felL  over,  ^n'  slipped  right 
down  upon  the  hearthstone.     We  had  a  heavy  time  of  it 
that  night,  sir  j  but  when  the  door  banged  open  that  time, 
this  child  that  was  a  little  thing  then,  lyun  upon  the 
bench  sleepun,  made  a  soart  of  a  gurgle,  like,  when  the 
first  sound  comed  to  the  door,  and  then  when  the  flaws 
o'  wind   comed   in   she   smiled,  and   smiled   agen,  and 
laughed,  as  ef  a  body  m'y  be  sayun  pooty  things  jto  her 
in  d'y-time.     Jesse  aid  it,  an'  plucked  me  by  the  coat- 
sleeve,  and  I  sid  it,  too. 

"  Well,  sir,  night  passed :  'ee  may  be  sure  we  didn' 

sleep  m^ch,  on'y  cat-naps  ;- and  onqe  or  twice  I  failed 

into  a  kind  of  a  dwall,*  an'  started,  thlnkun  thet/  was 

speakun  to  me.     Mornun  comed  slow  and  cold — colde^ 

Mhan  night     So  |he  nighbors  comed  in  at  mornun,  and 

— ADml. 


i/ 


m^ 


■  ^ff!"  '^T^-r"*'*  -Tv  ■^IS^^^y^"^^*       yxYPtf ,  -^jj-  ^  ,  ("««'!» ■w^y^s^.-j^^i 


SKIPPER  GEORGE. 


67 


sat  by ;  and  now  an'  agen  one  'ould  say  they  were  fine 
young  men  ;  an'  after  a  bit  another  *d  say  James  was  a 
brave  heart,  and  how  he  saved  a  boat'|  crew  three  years 
ago,  scullun  them  into  B'y-Harbor ;  an'  so  they  said  how 
he  begi^n  to  teach  in  Sunday-school  Sunday  before ;  an* 
how  brave  'e  was,  wl^n  they  sid  the  last  of  un,  scullun     ^ 
aw'y  round  the  point ''and  over  the  b'y,  for  t'other^ide, 
or  for  Bell-Isle,  St  some  place  to  Ideward.     So  *they  said 
James  'ould  take  'em  safe,  plase  G^,  an'  we'd  hear  of 
'em  some  place  over  the  b'y  in  a  d'y  or  two.     Then 
they  said  they  wondered  ef  the  young  men  could  keep, 
from  freezun  their  handes,  an'  said  mubbe  they  wouldn' 
git  touched,  for  thfey  was  all  well-clothed,  an'  James  'ould 
keep  up  their  spirits,  an'  brother^Iiik's  httle  George  was^ 
a  merry  boy,  an'  great  play-game  fbr  the  rest ;  an'  my 
Maunsell  an'  'e's  tother  cousin,  Johli,  were  steady  young        ^ 
men,  an'  wouldn'  give  up  very  easy;  b0^  they  were  both 
quiet,  and  looked  up  to  James,  though  John  was  a  good 
bit  older. 

"WuU,  sir,  the  day  went  on,  cold,  cold,  an'  blowdn 
heavy,  an'  the  water  black  an'  white,  wi'  white  shores,  an' 
sloh-ice  all  along ;— an*  more,  agen,  an'  heajaer,  to  lee- 
ward, sartenly.  We  could  n'  stir  hand  or  &ot  that  day, 
nor  next;  but  the  Lord's  day  came  in  softer,  an*)fre  got 
a  good  crew  an'  a  stout  punt  to  a&rch  for  t«e  four 
poor  boys  that  had  been  three  days  a  mis^n,  aad  ^W  Mr.  *  " 
Williamson,  the  clerk  that  is  noW,  sir,*  made  a  prti^er 
over  us  before  we  laved.  '  When  we  come  to  put  off,  they 
left  me  standun ;  I  make  no  doubt  but  Josse  mah^  to 
spare  me ;  but  I  called  un  buck,  for  I  said,  why  should  1 
be  settun  wi(  my  hands  folded,  or  walking  about,  lookun 
out  over  the  water,  and  1  may  just  so  well  be  doun  some- 


,,  Ai 


f  :. 


s 


68 


THUilEW  PRIEST. 


ihun  like  a  father  for  my  sons  an'  for  my  brother's  or-, 
phans  ?  ■     .  V 

^  ^"-Wfe  made  for  Broad  Cove;   for  so  we  thought  the 

■^  wind  wouki  ha'  driven  the  poor  young  fellows  arThursday ; 

but  jire^Gouldn'  get  into  Broad  Cove,  for  the  slpb  an'  cakes 
of  iee.     The  shore  looked  tarrible  cruel ! " 

Skipper  George  sate  thoughtful  a  moment,  and  then 
begjui  again.  . 

"At  Port'gal  Cove,",  he  continued,  looking  over  the 
^  water,  "  they  did  n'  know  about  e'er  a  punt,  an'  no  more 
they  did.  n'  at  Broad  Cove,  nor  ^Holly-Rood  ;  for  we  staid 
three  days,  an'  walked  an'  sarched  all  over.  An'  so  a 
Thursday  mom  agen  we  eomed  back  home ;— 'twas  cold, " 
but  still.  ,  So  when  we  -corned  round  Teterport-PoiAt, 
(that's  it  o^pr  at  the  outside  o'  Blazun  Head,  yonder,) 
every  man,  4'most,  looked  over  his  shoulder,  thinkun 
mubbe  they'd  got  in ;  but  'twas  n'  so.  ^^ley  had  vf-  come, 
nor  they,  hadn'  been  hard  from.  So  my  mistress,  an' 
Milly,  an'  George,  an'  I,  an'  this  maid  kneeled  down  after 
^'^  ^^W^rxx.m^  'twasf  an'  prayed  to  the  good  Lord. 

"An  so  we  waited,  an'  did  n'  hear  from  the  fourVpoot 
boys,  not  for  a  good  many  days  !  " 

Skipper  George  stopped  here  again  for  «  while. 
i^  .   ^  "A well,  sir,  then   there  corned  word  over,  that  some 

inen  had  abin  found  at  Broad  Cove ! — It  was  n'  known 
who  they  were ;  but  we  knowed.  So  they  got  Mr.'Wor-  ■ 
ner'8  boat,  an'  a  crew  of  'em  went  round,  an'  Skipper 
*Enery  Ressle,  an'  Skipper  Izik  Ressle  (that  was  Milly's 
father,)  an'  Skipper  Izik  Marchant,  ('e  was  n'  Skipper 
then,  however,)  but  a  many  friends  goed  in  her, — I  could 
n*  gb  that  time,  sir. 

"  Twas  about  sun-goun-down,  she  corned  in.     Never  a 
■'  WwitI  nor  tt  sound  l^SfieiocjkBjt  black,  seeSunTy^  tuTno^ 


■^m-^f^ 


Ma^. 


"f^^^"^  -%!r''-'-WBnswf"'™j'l'iS 


SKIPPER 'GEOBGE. 


69 


nor 


flag.- 


-  Tti^as    they !      Sure    enough,    'twas 


colors 
they! 

"A  man  had  sid  a  punt  all  covered  wi'  icie,  an*  hauled 
her^up;  an'  when  he  corned  to  clear  away  thl^ice,  there 
was  a  man,  seemunly,  in  the  for'ard  part !  He  called 
the  nighbors ;  ap*^  sure  enough,  there  'e  wa6,  an'  another 
one,  along  wi'  un ;  an'  both  seemunly  a-kneelun  an'  leanun 
over  the  for'ard  th'art.  They  were  the  two  brothers, 
John  an'  little  George,  frozen  stiff,  an'  two  arms  locked  to- 
gether !  They  died  pr'yun,  sir,  most*  likely ;  so  it  Seepaed. 
They  was  good  lads,  sh-,-  an'  they  knowed  their  Grod! 

"  So,  then,  they  thought  there  was  n'  no  more  — ■ — " 

The  fisherman  :here  made -a  longer  pause,  and  getting 

up  fi-ora  his  seat,  said  (yil  be  back,  after  a  bit  sir ; "  and 

walking  away  from  Mr.  Debree  and  his  daughter,  stood 

for  a  little  while  with  his  back  toward  them  and^his  head 

.  bare. 

The  maiden  bent  her  gentle  face  upon  her  knee  within 
her  two  hands.  The  moonlight  glossed  her  rich  black 
hair,  glanced  from  her  white  cap,  and  gave  a  grace  to 
er  bended  neck.  At  the  first  motion  of  her  father  to 
turn  about,  she  rose  to 'her  feet  and  awaited  him*  Upon 
him  too,— on  his  head,  bared  of  its  hair,  above,  on  his 
broad,  nmnly  front,  at^d  on  his  steady  eye,— the  moonlight 
fell  beautifully.     Mr.  Debree  rose,  a^,  to  wait  for  him.  - 

Skipper  George  came,  back  \  and  %ok  up  his  broken 
story^  ■  ■  ■        ^  ^ 

"  Bumbye,  sir,  when  they  comed  to  the  t&^-partr  of 
the  boat,  there  they  found  a  yotMg  man. lyun  mthe  i^tam-- 
9heet8,  wi'  no  coat,  an'  Ws— an'  his— his  poor,  iovtin  arm 
under  'is  brother's  neck ;— an'  the  tother  had  the  jacket 
jolled  up  for  a  P^UQ^«Qder  jiis^head,  an'^Ijuppose  'e 


dlerihere,  sleepun  upon  the  jacket,  that  'is  brother  rolled 

up  for  un.'^  • 


.A" 


<: 


' 


\» 


v>i: 


m 


?i 


f?' 


70 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


The  yoSm  of  the  father  was  v^rjAender  and  fouchii 
but  he  did  not  gif?e  way  to  te^fs. 

",So,  sir,  that  young  mailWd  done  'is  part,  and 
'em  safe  right  along  m'  the^|p,rrible  cruel  gale,  aw'y  ^^1^ 
a  .'twenty;  "miles  or  more,  tc^{  a  safe  covt,  anwis  hf^^  || 
wristes  were  all  woi-n  aw'y  w  workiin  ik|f  the  ^»;  but^ 
erthovight  of  i^  cruel  gate  6^%e  rigpfpfore  th%%>ve  ; 
we  made  no  doubt  Wli^v'e  foiinct^- th^t  in  da]^,J»| 
idi  found  '6h  could  n'  gel- though,  i^  ^.OQ^flt*. 
VtJ^ji.  'e,g^i[|B  hislself  up.  to  his  Go^  |^ H^ldl^^^ 
Jk|SpMire(]^i*m  rdiaiid  his  brothll;  ^i 
theE^;th%"W«ifci^iwM1ghoi!t  after  that,  (it  couldri'  ha' 
.  beei^o^loipgO'^t^iQil^^^fifour  dead  men   in   their  .boat 
^ws£itiri^[^jo«^^  'PRove,  tull  some  one  'oulaP?toine 

ffli|jtak/^-'f^ie&r'p|portK)^^^  strip  aw'y  the  ice  frolU'em 

.  an*  J)ut  ^e^''^  th^  ground,  that  comes  more  nat')^^    '" 
|#  mani^^Bir ! 


.^ 


Tfefe^did  n' find  e'er. an  oar, — whatever  becofii|ed 

of  '^m,;  .bu^hey  found  their  poor  guns,  an'  the  two  *^i*- 

]pkbaiUi;'had  their  names  cut  J  John  J3arbury,'  an'  *  Geol|je 

lallbu'fjr,'  an'  one  of  'em  .had  *Pet-^'  for  Peterport,  an! 

'HJoffldn' cut  ho  more,  for  cold — anV  death.  "* 

**iThere  was  three  guns ,  dut,;  an'  onie  had  'James 
Barbr-,'  that  poor  Maunsell  must  ha'  cut,  poor  fellow, 
\  afoi'e  the  deadly  cold  killed  un.  So  the  kind  people  that 
fomid  t^^  poor  boys,  they  thought  James  was  a  respectable 
ybuflg  man,  an'  when  they  comed  to  lay  'em  out,  in  the 
scliool-house,  (they  were  proper  kind,  sir,)  they .  put  a 
^laffle^shirt  on  him,  o',  linen. 

*VSo,  sir,  the  Minister  comed  over  an'  buried  the 
Four  coffins  were .  laid  along  the  aisle,  wi'  a  white^ 
over  every   one,  becg^e  we  had  n'  palls :  Js,m« 


IBil&upsell,  of  ^reorj^,  H00im,  an'^  IttdcrGlorj 


4.,.1fe 


"'  T'-^'^   ■ 


""'"■•'\"*    "" 


1^ 


)ula  come 


BKIfPER  GEORGE. 


71 


kan'  we  put  two  brothers  in  one  grave,  an*  two  brothers  m 
*'"''''^V,v side  bj side,  an' covered  them! 

'  ere  was  two  thousand  at  the  funeral;  an'  when  the 
>ouldn'  help  crjun,  so  I  think  a'most  every  one 
^^^^  ef  twas  their  own  ;  an'  so  we  hard  that  people 
I,  that  liVed  on  Kelley's  Island  hard  singun  goun  by  in  the 
'  ^^^  chantun  we  haves  in  church.     They  said  'twas 
^1^     ■     ^°°^""  "P  ^°'  <^7"n  aw'y,  an'  so,  goun  aw'y 
t|^  wind.     Iff  very  like,  sir,  as  Paul  an'  Silas  sang 
. '  'i^lfon,  so  they  san^  in  storm ! 
r  '  "Then  Milly,  po^  thing,  that  never  goed  back  to'er 
I  father's  house,  took  a  cold  at  the  fun^l,  seemunly,  an' 
she  died  in  James's  bed  a  three  weeks  after !     She  was 
out  of  hQr  mind,  too,  poor  thing!" 

After  another  silence,  in  which  Skipper  George  gazed  ' 
upon  the  restless  deep,  he  said, 

"  I  brought  home  wi'  me  the  best  stick  from  the  timber, 
and  laved  the  rest,  an'  no  one  ever  touched  it,  an'  there' 
it  staid.     So  next  winter,  sir,  my  tother  poor  young  man 
died  in  the  woods,  o'  mashss;  (-^thank  God!  we  never  ' 
had  to  move  in  *  till  I  lost  my  fine  boys,)  an'  the  next 
sixteen  day  of  January  I  set  up  my  pfllar,  as  Jacob  set 
^  his  pillar,  an'  this  is  my  pillar,  sir.     I  said  the  Lord  gived 
I  an'  the  Lord  have  tookt  away;  blessed  be  the  name  of 
I  the  Lord—All  the  riches  I  had  I  thought  'twas  gone." 

"  You  said  riches  came  again,"  said  Mr.  Debree,  deeply 
I  interested  and  affected.  ■     "^ 

"Ay,  sir.     My  maid  is  gone  back  to  the  house.     I  can'  • 
tell  'ee  what  she  is,  sir.     There's  a  pf^ty  in  the  harbor 
hv.ll  speak  o' Lucy  Barbury,  sir.    I  hope  ^^e'll  excuse  me     - 
[for  keepin 'ee  so  late."  .       " 

''1  thank  you,  With  all  my  heart,  for  that  L^ntifu} 


} 


^ 


*  Into  the  woods  1o  b«  near  fuel. 


d.     .-k'" 


^ 


•*l.Vi 


tvMiA 


•siitj;-. 


72 


THE  NEW   PRIEST. 


story,"  said  Mr.  Debree,  shaking  the  fisherman'svjiand, 
"Good  tiight,.  Skipper  George!  You  have  learned  a 
fesson,  indeed,  and,  with  God's  gtsice,  it  shall  do  me  good. 
It's  a  noble  lesson ! " 

"  The  Lord  showed  me  where  to  find  it  in  my  Bible 
an'  my  Pr'yer-book,  sir.      I  wish  'ee  a  good  evenun,  sir." 

So   there  was  a   historic  beauty  (t(J  those  who 

knew  them)  about  the  girls  in  that  house. 

/  .    They  were  the  only  remaining    children  of  George 

Barbury.     Skipper  George,  as  he  was  called,  though  he 

neither  owned    nor  "  sailed "  a  schooner,  had  lost   his 

greatest  wealth  (as  things  go  here) — three  fine  sons, — all 

three  in  e^rly  manhood ;  two  at  one  time,  and  afterward 

his  last.    jThis  was  a  great  loss.     It  niade  the  father 

stronger  in  himself,  standing  alone  and  stretching  upward ; 

but  it  desolated  this  world  very  much  for  him.     Those 

sons  would  have  enlarged  his  family;    with  them  and 

-theirs  he  would  one  day  have  manned  his  schooner  for 

'Hi  the  Liarbadore."  *    He  would  have  been  another  man  at 

the  head  of  such  a  race. 

They  were  all  gone  now  ;  and  the  father  Avas,  perhaps, 
the  better  man  for  it ;  (a  brave,  good,  kindly  man  hw^J 
was ;)  land  the  people  respected  him,  and  they  called  him 
"  Skipper  "  as  a  token  of  respect.  _  , 

One  .of  these  girls  remained,  and  oneilcas  given  to  him 
after  his  loss  ;  and  Lucy  had  grown  into  a  young  woman ; 
and  in  her  case,  mos;t  certainly,  it  was  a  good  thing  that 
her  father  had  made  up  his  mind  never  to  set  his  heart 
on  any  human  thing.  He  had  her  with  him  often  on  the 
water,  and  be  was  glad  to  watch  her  at  her  work  at  home 
and  hear  her  read  ;  yet  steadily  he  threw  her  on  herself,/ 
(in  his  homely  wisdom,)  ^o  make  a  woman  of  her ;  and ' 


^v^  -y   '^-^  ■ 


SKIPPER  GEORGE. 


73 


iiimself  looked  out  of  his  more  lonely  life,  with  great 
fatherly  eyes  upon   her;    rejoicing  in  her  beauty  and 
goodness,  and  thoughtfulness,  and  hoping  much  from' her; 
but  counting  her  as  not  altogether  belonging  to  himself.    ' 
She  had  her  own  end  before  her  froift  her  childhood, 
which  seemed  to  be  to  do  her  utmost  work  in  the  world  • 
and,  first,  to  fill  her  brothers'  place.     She  did  not  ask  or 
talk ;  but  she  took  heed,  and  he^d,  and  saw,  and  felt 
and  thus  grew  and  learned.     At  ten  years  of  age  she  first 
made  up  her  mind  that  she  would  never  grow  into  a  man, 
and  so  fill  up  her  father's  loss.     When  some  chance  con- 
versation first  brought  her  to  this  point,  (which,  very 
hkely,  she  had  feared  before,)  there  was  seen  a  flow  and 
ebb  of  blood ;  and  tears  got  as  high  as  the  level  of  her 
hds ;  and  then,  without  asking  or  saying,  she  knew  that  it 
was  a  woman's  place  she  was  to  have.     So  in  aU  gh-ls' 
ways  she  did  her  utmost,  and  into  whatever  she  did  or 
learned,  she  threw  herself  with  aU  her  might. 

Her  mother  was  a  most  sensible  woman,  with  much  the 
same  spirit  as  her  husband's ;  and  being  younger,  by  ten 
years  or  so,  than  he,  was,  for  that  reason,  more  a  com- 
panion  of  her  daughter.  For  other  teaching  than  she  got 
at  home  and  on  the  water,  there  was  the  school  which 
Mr.  Wellon  had  succeeded  in  establishing,  where  Lucy 
Barbury  outleamed  every  thing ;  and  Mr.  WeUon,  finding 
this  quiet,  pretty  little  girl  so  bright,  taught  her  himself,  in 
some  things,  and  lent  her  books.  Mi^s  Dare  made  much 
of  her,  too ;  talked  with  her,  and  listened  to  hqr,  and  en- 
couraged her,  and  read  with  her;  and  Lucy  grew  aston- 
ishmgly  in  wisdom  and  even  m  what  is  learned  from 


books. 


j^^^^"^g^V  within  the^^se  again,  for  a  wbjle,  Lucy 
Barbuiy  sate  looJung,  i^raUbsent  eyes,  at  her  father,  ^»^ 


-3^ 


t 


4t& 


i,-,- 


w 


n 


THE  NEW  FBIEST. 


Umself  saie  late  i  then  she  trimmed  the  lamp,  and  busied 
herself  -with  paper  ^^^  PQH||yi|fr-»t.w''  v 

It  was  all  silent  ,tiH,^pP^pfcff  prayer-time ;  then, 
late  as  it  was,  LucjpRnipill#^ew  Testament  lesson  for 
the  day ;  and  the  ||^er  used  the  evening  collects  of  the 
G)mmon-prayej'-book,  holding  little/ Janie  again  in  his 
arms ;  and  then  the  little  gathering  was  brpkfifi  up. 

\It  was  the  parents'  way  to  leay^lUffifjp^RS^iteiN^  hme 
wn  times^lmd  she  trimmed  her  lamp  and'^sate  in  the 
dbimney  ^^  they  were  gone  to  bed. 

The  tae|H|morning  they  found  her  lying,  in  her  clothes, 
upon  hei*/l|B4>  burning  with  fever. 

Dr.  ^l^iwin  was  sent  for,  from  Brigus,  and  said  that 
**it  was  |evere,  and  would  not  be  over  in  a  day — or  jtwo." 


s 


% 


^=¥= 


«^f»>Kr'»  ■■]»■ 


^^ 


A  MEETING. 


% 


I 


75 


CHAPTER  IX. 


A  MEETING. 

^MYS,  fair  and  foul,  went  by ;  the  fever  kept  about 
its  slow  work  in  Marchants'  Cove,  and  Skipper 
George's  daughter  was  sick,     xlere  came  a  very- 
beautiful  j^emoon,  on  the  twelfth  of  that  August     AU 
was  fair,  as  W  there  were  no  provision  in  either  sea  or 
sky  for  rain.  jx 

The  yind  from  the  sea  was  sweeping  steadily  over  the 
«gould'%shes  on  the  Backside;  the  sky  overhead  was 

*^^^^^'  ^"^^mt  ^'^"^^  ^®^*^'^'  ^^^^  ^^^^  *^®  ^^n<*J  and 
there  il  sail^lowly*  as  if  it  were  a  barge  from  which 

some  lovely  J||ts  gazed  upon  the  happy  earth.  The 
httle  breakers  pla^  quietly,  (at  this  distanqe  no  sound 
comes  up  from  thei^fcejoicing,  apparently,  among  them- 
selves, as  if  they  were,  what  they  are  often  caUed,  livinff 
"  white  horses."  ,  '  'a 

The  wind  took  littie  notice  of  the'chUdish  trees  that 
lifted  up  their  heads  among  the  bushes,  but  scarcely  yet 

.above  them,  and  swept  on  toward  the  farther  woods  and 
inner  barrens,  there  to  lay  by  what  it  was  biinging  of 
health  and  freshness  from  the  main. 

The  day  was  suciiu  Is  often  draws  one's  lon^ngs  fbfl      w 
wards,  forwards,  as  th^V^et  wind  goe^,  and  brings  into        " 
f!!!,."!'"^  a  gentle. sorrow,  because  it  cannot  go  atong     •  " 

-iar^r  uii  faster  than  theriiea?y15o<fy.~^     ~"  , 


76 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


Tliis  neighborhood  has  seldom  any  stir  of  human  life, 
and  bn-ds  and  insects  are  not  frequent  here.  The  patHs 
are  travelled  most  in  winter ;  for  they  lead  over  to  the 
woods,  crossing  some  swamps  and  ponds,  perhaps,  in  the 
way ;  and  these  are  frozen  at  that  season.  They  can  be 
traversed,  however,  (some  of  them,)  at  other  times,  by 
those  who  are  familiar  with  them,  with  no  worse  risk  than 
that  of  getting  a  wet  foot  at  a  careless  moment,  and  they 
are  shorter  ways  of  communication  between  the  houses 
on  the  hai'bor-road  in  Peterport  and  the  next  settlement, 
towards  Bay-Harbor,  than  is  the  main  highway. 

Some  simple  flowers  grow  here  among  the  stones  and 
shrubs,  and  berries  in  their  season.  The  linntpa  barealis 
puts  up  ita  pretty  pinkness,  (confounded  with  the  blossom 
of  the  cranberry  by  the  people;)  spiked  willow-weed; 
golden-rod ;  the  sweet  flower  of  the  bake-apple,  and  other 
pretty  things  grow  quietly  upon  this  ground,  which  is 
scarce  habitable  for  man.  The  graceful  maidenhair,  with 
its  pretty,  spicy  fruit ;  plumboys,  bake-apples,  crackers, 
partridge-berries,  horts,  and  others  enrich  the  barrenness, 
and  make  it  worth  the  while  for  women  and  children  to 
come  and  gather  them. 

On  this  particular  day,  at  this  particular  time,  the 
single  flgure  of  a  gentleman  in  black  dress  was  crossing 
the  surface  of  the  shrubbery,  just  about  midway  between 
the  harbor's  head  and  the  outer  point.  He  was  walking 
moderately,  and  any  one,  who  saw  him  nearly,  would 
have  seen  his  hands  clasped  before  him,  and  a  thoughtful, 
serious  look  upon  his  face.  Whoever  knew  him  would 
have  known  afar  that  it  wa^  the  new  Romish  priest. 

Just  as  he  turned  a  short  comer,  where  the  growth  of 

little  firs  was  rather  thicker  than  elsewhere,  there  started 

-^  ttp  at  his  st^  a  pretty  ^iagi  ae  bird»  but  a^jareet  lUtlfi 


.* 


i<-i^Wu^- 


'/X'mtrmQ? 


n 


girl,  with  the  flushed  face  of  one  who  had  bem  stooping 
long,  and  the  loose  locks,  that  were  a  fairer  covering  for 
the  lovely  head  than  the  straw-hat  which  hung  adown 
her  shoulders.  The  little  thing,  before  collecting  her- 
self,— before  seeing  fairly  the  person  who  had  come  so 
suddenly  upon  her, — said  in  a  startled  way,  "  Who  are 
you?"  :,^    .  :  '.;,. 

After  looking  at  him  for  a  moment,  however,  she  came 
straight  up  to  him,  with  her  eyes  fiied  on  his  face,  and  smd, 
"I've  got  a  great  many  berries." 

At  the  same  time  she  held  up,  in  a  sweet  way,  still 
looking  straight  upon  his  face,  her  apron,  heavy  with  the 
load  that  sfte  had  been  gathering. 

"  Thank  you,  my  little  child ;  I  don't  want  any  of 
them,"  answered  Mr.  Debree,  scarcely  heeding  the  child, 
who  was  looking  up  so  steadily  upon  him.  Then,  as  the 
little  creature  was  about  to  turn  away,  rebuffed  and  dis^ 
tanced  by  his  manner,  he  recalled  himself  from  his  ab- 
stractedness, and,  condescending  to  her,  asked, 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  take  one  of  your  berries  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  please,  a  great  many.  Were  you  looking 
for  me  when  you  came  here  ?  "  ", 

"  No,  my  child,"  answered  he  again  kindly,  « I  didn't 
know  that  you  were  here."  •         •  , 

"  Oh !  yes.  I've  been  here  a  great  while ;  I've  been 
here  a  great  many  hours ;  I  don't  know  how  lon^Tve 
been  here.     Do  you  know  my  nramma?  "   ;  -  '    ' 

"  No.  I  don't  know  your  mamma,"  said  he,  patiently 
keeping  up  the  conversation  witli  tl|ijJB]^ive,  little  thing, 
whose  voice -was  as  pleasant  as  W  fife,  and  who  evi- 
dently wished  to  become  better  acquauited. ' 

"  Does  your  mamma  let  you  come  and  stay  here  so 


t  '. 


toiig  alTflone  F^inquired  hie  w 


f 


,  itW"    , 


f  ??■ 


ik 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


*^  W%i  no !  I'm  not  alone.  Don't  you  see  ?  "  said  tl^e 
young  thing,  jvith  that  directness  and  satisfaction  of  hav- 
ing the  advantage  of  a  "  great  man,"  which  also  gro>vn-up 
children  show  in  the  same  way  when  they  find  themselves 
better  informled  in   some   particular  than  "some   others 


are. 


As  she  said  these  words,  there  rose  from  the  near, 
bushes  a  m'eny  laugti'of  little  ones,  who  had  been  hearing    ' 
all,  unseen^  and  had  been,  very  likely,  on   the  point,  of   ' 
breaking  put  before.  '  '  i 

"  Don't  you  hear  those  children  ?  They  are  with  me ; 
and  there's  a  woman  over  there,  with  a  pink  ribbon'^'ound 
her  neck,  sitting  by  that  roCk,;  don't  you  see  her?  She'll 
see  that  ,we  don't^et  into  any  inisclkigf."   „,. 

Mt.  Debree  smiled  as  she  reported  so  glibly  the;se  last 
words,  words  which  sounded  as  if  they  had  made  a  part 
or  the  whole  of  the  request  qv  injunction  given  wjjen  . 
^  the  children  set  forth  from  home.  In  the  direction  ^  to 
which  his  eye  turned,  &,s  she  spoke,  the  womap/^' with' the 
pink  <Tibbon,"  was  plainly  to  be  seen  at  no  great  ;dis- 
tance. 

.  These  are  tenacioaj4  little  thinzs  these  children  ;  and^i 
Wndhearted  man,  though  \\e  be  a  chiklless  Romish  priest, 
caitnoi  ru<|eiy  l^reak  away  from  one*  of  tl^Hptl^^^  wishes 
to  detain  him. -^  Father  Ignatius,  though  aHffilo  reserved, 
was  vSi^  g^Otle  in, his  manner,  and  his  voice  had  tio 
repulsive  ione  in  it  j  the  child  seemed,  as  cliildren  do,  to 
dfaw  towards  him.  She  took  his  luind,  alifiqugh  he  had 
several  times  turned  to  f^o  on  his  way,  and  prepared  to 
lead  him  back  again  over  his  steps.     He  gprftly  resisted^, 

"Where  di^you  mean  to  lead  me?  "he  asked.  ^ 

She'  bai^itated  |br  a  moment,  as  if  abashed,  and  then, 


Tobsing  herHSold  of  his  hand,  and  tumTng  one  UUleTooi^^ 


/■^  % 


'  •>*'  *  •^■^">^  f    ir  »    ■^f^ 


**-'T-T-T^» 


A  MEETING. 


79 


round  upon  it's  toe,  swaying  her  body, 'at  the^^sfcme  time' 
a  little  away  from  him,  aaked  timidly, 

)on't  you  want  to  gt>  and  see  my  mamma  ?"     '    "  ' 

^"But  I  don't  know  your  mamma,  jny  chil4,"  he  ^- 
swered,  taking  this  opportunity  ,tO- effect  his  pui^se  of 
'teeping  on  his  path  ;  so  saying  "  (Grood  bye ! "  he  walked 
away.  He  turned  his  head  eye  long,  ajid  tow  the  child 
unsatisfied 'Standing  still  upon ^^  saitte  spibt ;  fifer  hands 
holding  up  her  loade^  apron^  her  Bead  bent  forwards,  and 
hef  eyes  fi:j^ed  upon  hini.r '  H^  §tOoped  hastily,  and  has- 
tily cai^e^back,  saying"  There's  a  pretty  little  flower 
foryofl  th^t  I  found  under  the  fir-tjediyonder.""  :'  'v 
^  "  Mgmmk  said  I  was  a  littW  ^wer  that  grew  In  the 
shade,|2  said  ;  the  child,  and  tl^;erf,  as  J£  trying  a^in  to 
establish.aii  intercourse'between  kerself  and  her  rchance^ 
companion,  asked  him  suddenly,  . 
/    "^re  yoU" a, minister?". 

"Yes. ^  ^What  made  you  think  so ? '' 

*®o  you  know  Mr.  Wellort  ? "  contjuued  she  in  her 
course  if  int^iTogs^ioh. 
^^'^elj^l/know  him,"  he  answered,  once  moi^  himing 

''<ii||feii.  love  Mr,  T^ellpi^?"  she  weiit  on,  foHoifijaf 
out  her  6^^  little  train ,  of  thought.  « I  fcn(/w  hinf, . ^nd 
IloveUim  very,  much;  do  you?^'  She.  put  the  seooiid 
interroga"tive  a^  the  end  of ,  the  Sentence,  to  jfeipensate* 
fot-  tlie  diversion,  in  the  middle  clause,  from  Ai^  opening 
luestioni  as  one  brings  up,  to^its  first  level,  a  rope  that 
"^  has  sji^^ed  in  its  length  midway.     ;.   .     , 

"Y(#4,'.'V8»i<r  h|.^as"kindiy  ana>lquietly  as  before,  an^ 
not  perfiwting  now  in  going  on. 

"  ^^'.  ^^J*"*  h&Au'i  any  Httle  children  ;-  baY6|yoaggit 
-  any  little  children/  *" iirre~a3k"^ai — — rr-^ -^^ =^ 


.W- 


/-) 


>4 


f 


■»  . 


I-* 


"  6 


'.■M 


•  v 


H' 


r- ! 


80 


A^- 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


"  No,"  i|iiswered  he,  turning  away. 

"Are  you  a  Romis'  pries'  ? "  was  her  next  inquiry^ 
using  the  i^ords  (except  for  (?hildishnes8  of  pronunciation) 
as  familiarly  as  if  she  had  been  reading  and  ^sp6Uing  out 
of  a  book  of  controversy,  the  little  thing ! 

Seeiqg  the  gentleman  change  color  slightly,  or  noticing, 
perhaps,  some  other  slight  change  which  a  child's  eye  so 
readily  detects  and  a  child's  mind  interprets  as  well  as  it 
knows  ho>v,  she  hastened  to  ask  him,  looking  abashed, 

"Is  that  bad?" 

"  Oh,  no.  But  what  made  you  think  of  it  ?  Where 
did  you  hear  about  Romish  priests  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  where  I  heard  it.  I  heard  it  some- 
where," ansWered  the  httle  one,  in  her  siraphcity.  "I 
heard  mamma  say  it,  and  Mr.  Wellon."  , 

"  Did  they  say  that  I  Was  one  ? "  said  he,  in  a  lower 
voice  than  before. 

"  No ;  they  didn't  say  you  ;  they  said  ,8ome  men  were 
that." 

"  And  what  sort  of  man  do  you  think  it  is  ?  " 

**  I  tiiink  it's  a  man  like  you." 

"  And  why  do  you  think  it's  a  man  like  me  ?  "  he  asked 
again,  smiling.  ^ 

I  don't  know  ;  I  think  it  is,"  the  little  thing  said,  giv- 
ing a  child's  reason. , 

"And  is  it  somebody  like  Mr.  Wellon,  do  you 
think  ?  " 

"  Oh  1  no.  It  isn't  a  man  like  Mr.  Wellon,"  said  she, 
decidedly. 

"  What  is  Mr.  Wellon,  then  ?     Do  yc^u  ^now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !     I  know  Mr.  Wellon  is  a  minister  of  God,'' 
^e  answered,  lopking  up  to  hiraf 
— ~  Who  18  your  mamma  ?  " 


i. 


>^r 


V  fiC 


■^t '' ^~i^  ""?%'"*  i^'?j- 1  ^■^    f^n. 


c^f--* 


•f-   'j,f 


A   MEETING. 


81 


"Her  name  is*  Mrs.  Barrei,  and  my  name  i(i  Mary 
Barrk     I'm  her  little  dau^kter." 

"And  how  old  are  you,  child  ?  "  he  inquired,  liking 
away,  over  the  water. 

"  I  shall  be  a  big  girl  pretty  soon.  I'm  going  on  six. 
That's  pretty  big,  isn't  it?  Mamma  says  I  shall  be  a 
woman  pretty  soon,  if  I  live,  because  my  papa's  gone.'* 

Mr.  Debree,  at  these  words,  looked  back  at  the  child, 
and  said,  "  Where  is  he  gone  ?  "  . 

„  She  answered  as  if  she  were  sure  of  having  *made  a 
friend  of  him,  "  I  think  he's  gone  up  in  the  sky ;  for  my 
mamma  wears  black  clothes,  and  cries  sometimes ;  and 
that's  what  people  do  when  some  one  goes  up  in  the  sky. 
I  think  he's  been  gone  about  thirty  years."  This  last  she 
said  with  the  same  innocent  confidence  as  the  rest;  lavish- 
ing the  time  like  any  other  treasure  of  unknown  worth. 

Her  companion  did  not  smile,  but  stood  and  looked  at 
her,  and  then  turned  again  and  walked  away  i  and  the 
little  thing,  as  if  satisfied  with  having  established!  bo  much 
of  an  acquaintance  as  to  have  let  him  know  wi|io  she  was, 
and  how  old,  turned  up  the  path,  without  looking;  back. 

Presently  she  was  singing  at  the  top  of  her  <i^ioe,  as 
she  sat  upon  a  stone  : — 


/ 

The  iceberg  f 'oats,  all  still  and  st'ong, 
From  the  land  of  ice  and  snow : 

Full  fifty  fallom  above  the  sea,  ' 
Two  hundred  fallom  below." 


J 


.€' 


Then  «g  if  her  little  fhyme  had  been  a  sacred  hynm,  from 
Holy  Writ  or  the  Church  Service,  she  added,  **  Glory  be' 
to  the  Fkther,  and  to  the  Boo,  and  to  thm  Holy  Ghost, — in 
the  beginning, — eVer  shall  be,  world  avout  «nd,  Aoen." 

hildren,  who  had  been  ^^rmg  or  piokini;  l^rriesT 


Tl 


VOt    i 


'>• 


r  \ 


82 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


<f^. 


M 


close  at  hand,  started  up  like  a  covey  of  birds,  and  joined 
little  Mary,  an^  the  "  woman  with  the  red  ribbon,"  who 
was  not  far  off,  came  at  almost  the  same  moment. 

«  What  was  'e  saying  to  'ee,  lovey  ?  "  and  "  what  did  'e 
come  back  for?"  and  "what  did  he  telU'ee  about  a 
praste  ?  "  "  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  and  other  like,  were  the 
cloud  of  questions  that  swarmed  about  little  Mary  from 
the  woman  and  the  children  ;  the  woman  not  forgetting  at 
the  same  time,  to  put  the  straw  hat  which  had  been  hang- 
ing, as  we  said,  from  our  little  apquaintance's  neck,  into 
its  proper  place  upon  her  head. 

-  From  amidst  this  swarm  of  sharp  interrogatories,  Mary 
started  off  to  f^e.  She  fell  and  scattered  a  good  many  of 
her  berries  before  she  got  far,  gathered  up  as  many  as 
she  could,  before  the  company,  which  followed  stoWly, 
overtook  her,  and  then  managed  to  keep  in  front  of  them, 
and  then  of  such  as  were  left  of  them,  (for  they  dropped 
off  by  degrees,)  until  she  i-eached  her  home. 

Mrs.  Barre,  in  receiving  her,  thanked  the  woman  who 
hkd  kept  her  in  sight,  and  bought,  at, the  same  time,  some 
quarts  of  berries,  by  way  of  returning  a  favor  ;  then  took 
Mary  up  in  her  arms,  and  hurried  to  hear  her  account  of 
her  doings. 

-"  Please  ma'am,"  called  the  worthy  neighbor  after  her, 
"  there  was  a  gentleman  stopped  and  talked  wi'  she  some 
while.  He  said  no  harm,  I  don't  think,  for  J  K<^pt  anight 
*em,  but  'e  was  this  'am'  handsome-looking  prjiste  tli^t's 
coined,  as  they  says,  to  live  in  the  harbor ;  'is  name's 
somethin,  I  don'  rightly  mind  ;  and  he  gave  her  bit  of  a 
p<»^,  ef  she's  a-got 'n  now.** 

The  mother  tlianked  her  a^in,  aiwl  for  informing  \\^t 
of  the  chiM's  talking  with  that^'gentlemart  ^ayiny  «fae 
wovM  ask  about  her  afternoon's  adventure*. 


^i 


^^^i^ 


■    .*;_      h 


B¥T 


A  MEETING. 


83 


To  this  the  little  adventurer  herself,  fresh  from  the  ex- 
citement, assented  very  cordially. 

"I  talked  very  kindly  to  him,  mamma,"  said  Mary, 
when  they  were  alone  together,  inside.  "I  told  him  I 
was  your  little  girl,  and  he  wanted  to  kno^  what  a  Ro- 
mis'  pries'  was,  and  I  told  him  I  thought  he  was  a  Romis' 
pries' ;  and  he  asked  me  whether  my  papa  was  gone  up  in 
the  sky."   - 

"  Are  you  sorry  that  your  papa  is  gone  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 

Barre.  . 

"  Yes,  I  always  am  sorry  ;  why  do  you  ask  me  that  ia 
great  many  times,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  I  forget ;  and  I  want  you  to  love  He||- 
enly  Father  very  much,  and  pray  to  Him.  Where  is  the 
flower  he  gave  you,  darling?  '*         / 

"  There  it  is,  mamma,  and  I'll  give  it  to  you,"  said  the 
little  one,  dragging  it  forth  from  among  her  berries.     - 

"  Thank  you,  love,"  said  her  mother,  kissing  ^,  and 
taking  the  flower,  which  she  did  not  return. 


•4 


/. 


r  i- 


84. 


THEi«EW  PBIEST. 


CHAPTER  X. 


80h£  aosaip  and  some  real  lo^    ;^,V< 


if 


F  ^  outlandish  frigate  had  come  in  amd  fiirled  hei> 
broad  sails,  and  dropped  hw  heavy  anchors,  an^ 
sWung  round  tp  tjiem,  with  her  strange  colors^ying, 
and  lowered  away  a  half  dozen  black  boats,  and  beid  them  ' 
in  tow  ki  her  side  and  astern,  iand  lay  there,  with  foreign-^, 
looking  mari^nes  pacing  in  her  main  chains^  and  a  crowd 
of  foreigners  swarming  on  l^^r  decks,  there  would  have 
been  some  stir  in  the  quiet  Iktle  town  of  Peterport,  and 
its  quiet  neighborhood,  '  The  people  would,  4)robably, 
have  managed  to  go  out  to  the  ledge  to  fish,  and  the 
women  would,  probably,  have  contrived  to  spread  and 
turn  their  fish-  on  the  flakes,  and  hoe  their  garden's, — alj 
besides  gratifying  their  furiosity ;  and  those  who  might 
come  from  afar  to  gaze  upon,  and  ask,  and  talk  about,  the 
ouUanders,  would,  probably,  get  through  their  usual  day's 
work  besides  ;  but,  far  and  near,  and  for  a  long  time,  the 
thing  would  be  in  their  thoMghta  and  in  their  talk,  oa 
land  and  on  water,  at  flake  and  at  fireside. 

So  it„wa>^  with  the  coming- pf  the  Romish  priest  to 
Peterport.  The  people  talked,  and  wondered,  and  feared ; 
and  some  ,  one  or  two  of  the  warmer-spirited  wives  pro- 
posed to  have  him  driven  off. 

Mr.^04iourke,  -thp"  Roman   L'aiholic   merchant,  was — 


...^^. ' 


"^ 


■p-         r-  nr'T-S'? 


"i-^-^iij  t'  '^^'^ 


SOME   GOSSIP  AND  SOME  .EEAL  LIFE. 


85 


either  seen  mOTe,  or  more  observed,  and  the  remaining 
people  of  his  persuasion,  planters  and  others,  were  thought 
.    to  havie  (very  naturalljl  an  air  of  moI«e  than  commoi 
confidence  and  satisfaction.     Still  more  was  this  supposed  > 
-to  be  the:  case  in  Gastle  Bay,  where,  though  the  place 
itself  was  less  considerable,  the  number  of  Roman  Cath- 
olics was  twice  as  large.  .     .  >    .       :      .  • 
Yo^ng  Urston's  case,  and  the  epidemic  that  Had  settled 
'itself  in  Marchants'  Gov?,  and  seemed,  now,  to  have  laid 
hold  on  Lucy  Barbury,  divided,  with  the  other  topic,  the 
public  mind>of- Peterport.    '  There  was  a  general  wish 
that  tl^e'Mlnisterwere  in  the  harbor,  as  weU  &r  the  sake 
„  of  the  sick,;(of  whom,  though  none  died,'yet  several  were 
affected  with  a  lasting  delirium,)  as  for  the  safeguard  of 
,fhe  pL-ice  against  th6' itivasipn  of  the  adverse  Priest." 
,  ,The  upper  Qitcle  was  a  small' one :— The  Minister,  the 
widowed  IVTrs.  Baprfe,:'the  Woraefs,  and  Miss  Dare ;  the 

mferchant-stipei)diary-magistrate-and-churchwarden,  Mr. 
Naught6n;  Mr.^  Skiplana,.'a  merchant;  Mr.  McLauren, 
tlie  othpr  churchwarden,  .living: ^ear  .Frahk's '  Cove,— a 
.worthy  Irishman,— (^he„  thre(^  latter  being  unmarried 
m(^,)  and,  lastly,  jthe  O'i^ourkf^s;  Roman  Catholics,  made 
the  whole  round.  Tliememberspf  it  had  somesubjects  - 
of  interest  beside,  but, they  had  chiefly  the  same  as  those 
thAt  occupied  the  planters.  - 

Of  course.the  harbor  Wrd,.  frorn  open  mouth  to  open 
«ar,  the  story  of  the  widowed  "lady's  strange  inter^w 
with  tlie  Romish  priest ;  nor  Was  there  little  s|>eeulati«Mi 
about  the  unknown  tie  thai  bound,  or  had  bound,  them  to 
each  other,  they  h&d  not  met  again,  and  he  was  seldom 
seen  by  dayi  sometimes,  at  night.  Some  said,  .)f  courser 
that  «he  walked  in  darkness,"  She,  too,  wa.  r^^r-^n 
oflen. 


r' 


*^i 


r  \ 


86 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


Miss  Dare  came  and  went  as  ever.  Only  what  follows 
of  what  ^as  said  and  done  between  her  and  Mrs.  Barrfe, 
concerns  otir  story. 

As  she  came  in,  late  on  the  afternoon  of  little  Mary'^ 
walk,  her  friend  answered  her  first  question,  which  w? 
rather  anxioa^ —  "  •  / 

"  Do  you  know,  my  dear  Mrs.  Barre,  how  yo^Ve 
chahged  within  a  few  days  ?  You  must  try  to  rest  i  cer- 
tainly not  undertake  new  labor."  / 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Mrs.  Barre,  "  that  I'm  not 
as  well  as  usual ; "  but  there  was  an  anxiousness  in  her 
eyes,  and  a  careworn  look  about  her  face,  as  well  as  a 
nervous  agitation  in  her  manner. 

"You  won't  insist,  now,  upon  watching  with  Lucy 
Barbury  ?  " 

.   "  Yes  ;  I  would  really  rather.     It  would  be  a  relief,  as 
well  as  a  satisfactioh  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Barre.  ^ 

"  Well ;  then,  I'll  go  back  to  my  aunt's,  and  come  down 
after  tea." 

So  saying,  Miss  Dare  took  her  leave.  ^ 

Late  in  the  moonlight  evening,  she  walked  with  her 
friend  (there  is  no  danger  here)  towards  Skipper  Greorge's. 
There  were  no  people  in  the  road ;  but  as  Miss  Dare  felt 
a  quiver  in  the  hand  that  lay  on  her  arm,  she  noticed,  a 
good  way  off,  a  man  whose  gait  and  figure  wore  rems^rk 
able,  and,  as  they  drew  nearer,  recognized  him  as  the 
Romish  Priest  No  greeting  or » sign  of  any  sort  passed 
between  them.         .  , 

As  the  lady  c^ftrie,  pale  and  thoughtful-looking,  out  of 
the  night  into  the  house  where  Lucy  Barbury  lay  sick, 
th^  father,  with  his  manly  and  dignified  respect,  welcomed 
her  from  hia  heart.     The  mother,  overwatched  and  over- 


wearied,  was  persuaded  to  ^  to  bed ;  but  jjkipper  George 
kept  his  place,  quietly. 


x 


^    } 


i  ■ 


\"- 


"  if 


SOME   GOSSIP  AND   SOME   REAL   LIFE. 


87 


There  was  Scarce  any  sound,  Me^t  from  the  sick 
maiden,  who  very  constantly  spoke  ^ttrove  to  sing. 

As  once  a  h*ght  was  carried  in  and  used  about  her,  it 
was  a  touching  sight  to  see  the  girl  who  lafely  wa^  so  glad. 

A  wet  cloth  commonly  lay  on  her  forehead,  shading 
her  eyes  and  hiding  a  good  deal  of  her  face.  When  it 
was  taken  off,  it  could  be  seen  what  work  the  fever  had 
been  doing.  To  b^  sure,  her  rich  black  hair  poured  out 
from  under  her  white  cap  like  a  stream,  and,  the  soft,  long 
fringes  of  the  lids  spread  over  her  half-clos^  eyes  like  a 
soft  fern-spray  over  the  Uttle  pool  at  the  tree's  foot ;  and 
the  bending  neck  and  sloping  shoulders,  ove*  which  her 
white  night-dress  was  drawn  and  held  by  a  button,  were 
still  beautiful;  but  the  eyes  were  deeply  sunk,  and  the 
face  was  thin,  and  the  lips  chapped  and  parched. 

Her  kerchief  and  other  things,  that,  had  looked  so 
prettily  upon  her,  lay  with  her  prayer-book  on  a  cjiair  at 
hand. 

During  the  joight  she  dozed,  sometimes,  and  gen6^rally 
her  voice  was  heard  in  the  low  raving  of  half-sleepJ^It 
poured  forth  as  steadily  as  water  in  a  stream,  anJ^ 
changing  and  as  formless ;  brigh*  thoughts  and  str^ge 
fancies,- and  sweet  words;  belpg  and  hope;  and  beauty 
and  happiness,  and  tome  a^  sadness:  prayer,  song, 
'lant ;  things  far  off  and  things  near,  things  high  and  ^ow. 

So  the  slow  h^urs  of  night  paased ;  and  the  pale,  sad 
lady,  the  body  of  whose,  child  had  been  so  lately  laid 
deep  in  the  earth,  ministered.  • 

In  the  earliest  morning,  about  four  o'clock,  a  neighb^- 
woman  came,  ^nd  the  fisherman  gently  msisted  on  seeing 
Mrs.  Barre  home.  .    - 

She  slegt  late  into  the  day.  ; 


A- 


.>  i 


88 


./■  ■  J^ 


01 


EW  PRIEST. 


-# 


CHAPTER  XI. 


'#»* 


TWO  MEET  AGAIN. 


-s 

J» 


iRS.    BARRE  had  rested,  after  her  watch,  and 
earlj  in  the  afternoon  she  walked  out,  down 
the  harbor ;  this  time  alone.     She  passed  Mar- 
chauts'  Cove,  and  turn,   and  hill,  and  narrow  way,  to 
Franks'  'Cove ;  and  crossing  the  stile,  and  going  along 
,  the  naeadow-patii,  and  through  the  gorge  of  the  mountab 

Vi,^  of  rock,  she  stood  in  Mad  Cove.  The  stony  slope  went 
steeply  hollo^U^own  to  the  little  shelf  of  land  at  the 
water-side  ;  ^ffiHge  of  rock  went  along  to  the  left,  and 
ended  ^in  ^,^^  cliffs  at  the  sea ;  near  her  was  the 
widow  Frene'j^'Wouse ;  a  little  farther  down,  to  the  left, 
the  hovel  of  Tom  Somerset ;  and  down  at  the  bottom  of 
the  slope  were  the  eight  or  ten  houses  of  the  other  people, 
and  the  flakes  of  the  whole  colony. 

What  difference  there  is  between  yesterday  and  to-day ! 
The  great  earth  has  turned  over  its  twenty-four  thousand 
miles  of  land  and  sea,  cities  and  woods  and  deserts,  be- 
tween; twilight,  dafkness,  day,  have  come  between; 
where  a  breath  would  have  reached  yesterday,  there  may 
.    be,  now,  wide  waves  and  storms  between. 

Mrs.  Barre  stood  thinking  or  remembering  at  the  verge 
of  the  cove. 

3y  and  by  she  drew  near  to  Mrs.  Freney's  house,  and 
-— — - — -knocked.-  ■  v -— ■ — — -^^ ■ — 


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f  ^,        two  MEET  AGAIN. 


89 

The  priests  of  the  Roman  Catholic  denomination  do 
not  visit  generally  among  theif  people,  unless  to  adminis- 
ter sacraments;  but  as  the  door  opened,  Father  Debree 
was  standing  facing  it,  as  pale  and  sad  as  the  pale  sad 
lady  who  unexpectedly  confronted  hun.  She  started  at 
the  suddenness  of  the  sight,  closed  hef  eyes  for  an  instant, 
but  stood  where  she  was. 

There  was  a  likeness  of  face  and  expression,  bei^ 
that  of  the  sadness  and  paleness,  and  of  figure  and  Wr- 
ing, also.  There  was  the  same  high  forehead,  and  (except 
that  hers  were  darker)  the  same  full,  thoughtful,  feeling 
eyes. 

"Must  this  be?  "  said  the  Priest.  , 

"  It  IS  ;  beyond  all  hope  ! "  she  answered. 

"  llow  can  you  hope  it .?  "     *  " 

"  How  can  I  any  thing  else .? "  she  said ;  "  I  have  but 
one  chief  object  in  hfe." 

"But  what  should  bring  us  together,  if  there  be  no 
longer  a  common  faith ?"  . 

"  That  there  mai/  be  ! " 

"  I  did  not  know  that  I  must  meet  this,  in  coming 
to  this  far-off  place!"  the  Priest  said.  «I  cannot  feel 
the  drawing  of  old  ties !— I  cannot  see  you  !  " 

There  was  nothing  like  sternness  or  hardness  in  his 
way  of  saying  this,  but  of  gentle,  fixed  resolve. 

"I  must!  I  must,  while  I  have  life!"  she  said,  not 
loudly  but  most  earnestly.^ 

Mrs.  Freney  stood,  a  silent  and  amazed  listener ;  and 
the  children  looked  up,  wondering. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  Mrs.  Freney,"  said  the  lady ;  « I  came 
to  ask  about  your  child." 

Mrs.  Freney  was  so  bewildered,  that  she  scarce  knew 
ghat  t»  answer  ^^^ „_„^.^^  .,„_ -„-„- ^ =^ 


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^90 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


"  She's  doing  well,  thank'ee,  Ma'am ; — I  mean,  he's 
much  the  same.^ .  ' 

Father  Debree  said,  turning  to  her  (not  without  agita- 
tion) : — 

"  If  you  can  send  your  eldest  child  with  me,  I  will  send 
bapk  by  her  two  or*three  little  things  for  her  brother  1" 

Again  Mrs.  Barre  spoke : — 

"  And  I  shall  not  follow  you  fartlit^r  than  just  outside 
the  door ;  but  I  must  say  something  more,  now  God  haa 
given  me  opportunity."  . 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered  ;  I  cannot  be  harsh  or  rude 
to  you.  I  will  hear,  this  once,  and  bring  all  to  an  end. 
Come,  child  !  go  on  !  " 

The  girl)  opened  the  door  and  passed  out ;  the  lady 
gravely  bowed  to  Mrs.  Freney  and  followed,  and  Father 
Debree,  leaving  a  blessing  in  the  house,  went  last 

He  bade  the  girl  sit  down  upon  a  stone,  and  walking  a 
few  paces  onward,  stopped  to  talk  with  Mrs.  Barre. 

"  Why  should  we  meet  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why  should  we  meet  I  How  can  we  help  meeting, 
if  there  be  heaven  and  hell  hereafter,  and  if  our  Life  and 
Death  depend  upon  our  duty  done  or  undone  ?  I  have 
not  changed ;'  what  I  was,  I  am." 

"  All  human  ties  are  loosed  from  me,"  he  said.  "  To 
do  a  priest's  work  is  my  only  duty,  and  my  only  wish.  I 
cannot,  even  in  memory,  recall  any  other  tie."        <. 

"  What !  is  all  common  life  and  happiness  and  hope 
and  duty — is  every  thing  that  bound  us  together,  perished 
forever  ?  Can  you  strike  it  away,  because  you  will  not 
have  it? — It  all  lives,  here,'*  she  continued,  laying  her 
two  bands  on  her  bosom,  "  and  will  not  die  ! " 

"  But  it  is  dead  with  me  I  "  he  answered. 
^  wf  trom^n  wingetx  arrow,  seemett   rt^oooi 


'  *  f«^^  r^y  -^^t; 


yJpffC  MEET  AGAIN.  ^j 

through  her ;  bit  when  she  spoke,  her  voice  was  Uttle 
broken. 

"  It  may  be  so !  "  she  said.  «  O  Walter  I  I  claim  no 
love.  I  do  not  ask  for  it.  I  only  ask  that  there  shall 
not  b6  a  wall  harder  th^iron  b^ween  us  1  I  only  «sk 
that  I  may  have  leave,  from  time  to  time— only  from 
time  to  time—to  speak  to  you,  or  write  to  you,  and  that 
you  will  hear  and  answer  me  !  That  is  not  much  I— not 
much  from  you  to  me !  If  you  are  as  you  say,  it  cannot 
hurt  you  !--Walter !  "Walter  !^* 
Her  eyes  were  Only  full  of  tears.  .     -    N- 

His  fa.ce  quivered  ;  his  frame  was  shaken.  ■/ 

"  No,  I  cannot !  "  he  said  ;  « jt  must  not  be  I     It  is  im- 
possible ! "  - 

"  But  I  beseech  you,  for  tiod's  sake  I "  she  said,  clasp- 

mg  her,  two  hands  to  him. 
'•  No ! "  he  answered.    "  For  God's  sake,  I  mast  not  1 " 
Tears  stood  in  his  eyes  ;  how  could  he  hinder  them  I 
"Oh!"  she  cried,  closing  her  eyes,  and  casting  down 

her  face. 

"  Even  as  a  pHest,  you  might  grant  me  this  I  " 

"As  a  priest,  I  cinoot  do  itl    Oh  I  do  not  think  it 

cruelty  or  hardness  of  heks^;  my  very  heart  is  being 

eaten  out ;— but  I  cannot  1 "     ^ 

She   left  him,  instancy,  and   walked   very  hurriedly 

away.  \v  ^ 

On,  on,  on  she  went ;  up  the  harbor,  as  she'  Biwlcome 
into  her  own  pretty  little  yard,  into  her  house,  up^ 
cliamber. 

Little  Mary  came  running  into  her  mother's  room,  but 
stopped  ;  for  her  mother  was  kneeling  at  a  chair,  holding 
a  letter. 


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Ic.    ^. 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


chair,  laying  her  cheek  down  upon  her  arm,  with  her  face 
toward  her  mother,  and  pretty  soon  beginning  to  play 
gently  with  the  coral  beads  about  her  neck. 

As  Mrs.  Barre  rose,  she  came  across  and  set  her  lips 
iipon  the   forehead  of  her  pretty  little   daughter,  and 
'  smoothed  her  hair. 

"  Now,  darling,"  said  she,  "  do  you  think  you  can  do 
an  errand  for  me  exactly  &8  I  telL  you  ?  "  •  As  she  spoke 
she  folded  the  letter  in  white  paper. 

"  Oh  yes,  mamma  ! "  said  Mary,  eagerly,  "  I'm  sure  I 
can." 

"  There's  a  gentleman  coming  along,  and  you're  to  run 
after  him  and  give  him  this,  and  tell  him  it  belongs  to 
him ;  and  tlien  you're  to  run  back  as  fast  as  you  can ; 
and  don't  stop  for  any  thing.     Cq,n  you  ?  " 

The  little-ambassadress  was  sure  that  she  could  do  just 
as  she  was  bid,  and  Mrs.  Barre  reiterated  her  instruc- 
tions:—  ,  •'*?.. 

"  Mind ;    you're   not  to   stop   for  any  thing.     If  he 
speaks  to  you,  or  calls  you,  you're  to  run  back 
fast  as  you  can." 

The  child  assented,  and  repeated  her  mother'^  jwords. 

"  It's  a  costly  thing ! "  said  Mrs.  Barrfe,  looking  forth, 
as  if  from  the  quay  her  ,eyes  were  folk^iring  towards  the 
far  off,  fateful  ocean,  the  full-sailed  ship  that  bore  her  all 
in  one  venture. 

"  Now,  dear !  Quick !  There  he's  going — don't  for- 
get !  '^  she  exclaimed,  breathless.  "  Run  I  and  come 
straight  back ! "  The  priest  whom  she  had  met  in  Mad 
Cove  was  just  passing.  .^ 

Little  Mary  ran  down  stairs,  and  then  out  upon  the 
road,  with  her  golden  curls  shaking  and  shining  in  the 
X  nt3  gooiicmiiQ^  lumetr  anu    iook  ids   parooj 


TWO  MEET  AGAIN. 


93 


from  her  hand ;  then,  having  opened  it,  looked  after  her, 
as  if  he  would  calL;  but  presentlj  he  turned  again  and 
walked  on. 

Little  Mary  only  varii&d  a  little  from  her  orders.  Hav- 
ing run  away  from  him  as  fast  as  she  could  run,  she 
stopped,  as  a  bird  might  stop,  and  looked  back ;  but  he 
did  not  turn  again,  so  she  came  in. 

This  time,  too,  as  before,  her  mother  was  upon  her 
knees,  and  the  child  stood  looking  out  of  &ie  wmdow. 
As  her  mother  rose,  she  said : —     I 

"  That's  the  same  one  I  saw  Jhe  other  day,  mamma  I " 
Her  mother  was  thmking  her  own  thoughts.         » 

Ma^  had  a  child's  way : 

"Why  do  you  cry  so.  much,  when  my  papa's  "gone  up 
in  sky,  and  brother  Willie  ?  "  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Barre  wept  silently.  The  little  prattler  went  on 
prattling.  ^ 

"If  I  could  go  up  there,  V4  ask  Heavenly,. Father 
where  my  papa  was.  He'd  know,  wouldn't  He,  mamma? 
Heavenly  Father  would  know,  Because  He  knows  every 
thing.  He'd  show  me  my  papa;  and  J'd  go  up  to  him 
and  say,  'I'm  yolr  little  girl  Mary,*  that  you  left  at 
mamma's  house. when  you  came  up^here,'  and  then  he'd 
know  me." 

* 

The  little  thing  was  not  satisfied  with  the  silent  acqid- 
escence  that  she  got. 

"  ]^Eamma !  Mamma !  "  she  exclaimed,  « I  BfLW  little 
brother  Willie ! " 

"When,  dearie?"   asked   her  mother,  now  heeding    ' 
her. 

"  Just  now, — a  little  while  ago, — and  he  leaded  me  by 
my  hand  near  to  where  Heavenly  Father  was  sitting 
«4H  ijnwt  tdbairr^^Hieirifeavenly^Father  got  up  ^d 


.«,.S  ! 


\/' 


fW\ 


94 


THE  JSEW  PBIElST. 


opened  his  closet  and  took  down  one  of  our  little  boj'a 
playthings,  and  gave  it  to  our  little  Willie  ;— (He  dida't 
give  any  to  me ;)  but  He  looked  at  Willie's  little  sister 
as  if  He  was  glad  to  see  me.  Little  Willie  knew  who  I 
was,  mamma,  because  he  saw  my  paper." 

"What  paper,  darling  ?  "  asked  her  mother,  entirely 
occupied  with  the  child's  sto^y. 

"My  paper— don't  you  know?  That  you  writed 
f  Mary  Barre  *  on,  for  your  little  girl.  I  throwed  it  away 
up  in  sky,  and  wind  blew  it  away  up,  so  Willie  could  s^ 
it ;  and.  Willie  knew  what  little  girl  it  was." 

«  Come  with  me,  you  dear  little  dreamer!  "  said  Miss, 
Dare,  who  suddenly  appeared  at  the  door ;  and,  snatching 
up  Mary,  she  carried  her  oflC 

She  set  the  child  under  the  bowery  branches  of  a 
seringa,  and  stood  among  the  shrubs  and  floating  sprays 
of  ereepers,  which  she  had  a  year  before  gathered  about 
the  house,  a  fau-er  thing  than  the  sunshine  that  was  play- 
ing among  them ;  and  she  sang  for  the  child's  pleasure  a 
song  broken  into  pauses  now  and-  then,  much  as  the  sun- 
shine was,  l^e  and  there,  broken  into  shade.^  Perhaps 
our  readers  have  seen  or  will  see  how  the  song  may  have 
been  suggested. 

"  Woe  for  the  brave  ship  OrientJ 
Woe  for  the  old  ship  Orient! 
■^''         For  in  broad,  broad  light, 
With  the  land  in  sight,— 
Where  the  waters  bubbled  white,— 
One  great,  sharp  shriek!— One "sitidder  of  aflfriirhtl 
And— 

down  went  the  brave  old  ship,  the  Orient! " 

Her  voice  was  a  fine,  full  alto,  never  needing  any 
eflfort,  but  now  apparently  kept  low,  for  Mary's  ear.  The 
MT  which  ahfl  -very- Jikely^  adaptod  to  ^Sb»^ 


y 


■^f 


'  . 


'   ♦.TWO  MEET  AGAIN.  95 

Mh  the  same  in  general  as  that*  of  the  *  Bonny  house  o' 
Airlie;'  an^^er  voice  "flew  upward  and  flitted  from  parf 
to  part  among  the  words,  as  a  bird  from  bough  to  bough ; 
but  the  song  all  lived, jn  the  singing. 

The  shriek  seemed  to  Split  the  air,  and  the  shudder  to 
be  shaking  strong  hearts,  and  a  wail  to  wander  sadly 
over  the  sea,  where  the  good  ship  had  foundered.  She 
paused  here  for  a  while,  and  then  began  again  in  a  sweet, 
tripping  measure : — 

"  It  was  the  fairest  day  ih  the  merry  month  of  May, 
And  sleepmess  had  settled  on  the  seas; 
And  we  had  our  white  sail  set,— high  up  and  higher  yet,— 
And  our  flag  flashed  and  fluttered,  at  its  ease ; 
The  Cross  of  St.  George,  that  in  mountain  and  in  gorge,— 
On  the  hot  and  dusty  plain,— on  the  tiresome,  trackless,  main- 
Conquering  outj^conquering  home  again,— 
Had  flanpted,  the  world  over,  on  the  breeze." 

However  it  was  that  she  fitted  the  music  to  the  woixls, 
it  seemed  much  as  if  every  line  took  its  own  form  in 
leaving  the  singer's  lips,  in  the  fittest  melody. 

"  Ours  was  the  far-famed  Albion, 
And  she  had  her  best  look  of  faight  and  beauty  On, 
As  she  swept  across  the  seas  that  day. 
The  wind  was  fair  and  soft,  both  alow  and  afoft, 
And  we  wore  the  idle  hours  away." 

A  straying  lock  of  her  own  hair  was  tossed  by  the 
playful  wind  between  her  lips,  and  she  stood  silent  again  4 
-the  little  girl, clambered  to  the  top  of  the  fe;ice  and 
seated  herself  there.  / 

"  Please  sing,  cousin  Fanny  I"  she  said,  when  she  waa 
seated.     Miss  Dare  sang  again : 

"  The  steadying  sun  heaved  up,  as  day  drew  on, 
And  there  grew  a  long  swell  of  the  sea; 


OfMch  $Mmed  to  grmiS  tn  her  Unging,  too,) 


\ 


;e.i.i 


96 


THE  NF<W  PRIEST. 


And,  first  in  upper  air,  tljen  under,  everywhere, 
tt       From  the  topmost,  towering  sail,  down,  down  to  quarter-rail,' 
The  wind  began  to  breathe  more  free. 
•Ho!  Hilloa!  A  sail!'  was  the  topman's  hail— 
*  A  sail,  hull  down,  upon  our  iee ! '     • 
Then,  with  sea-glass  to  his  eye, 
And  hts  gray  locks  blowing  by, 
The  Admiral  guessed  what  she  might  be ; 
^;.  And  from  top  and  from  deck,  Was  it  ship?  Was  it  wreck? 
A  far  oflf,  far  off  speck. 
Of  a  sudden  we  found  upon  our  lee." 

«  Here  comes  Mr.  Naiighton  ! "  said  the  child  from  her 
perch,  like  the  topman  fi^m  his  lookout^,  "and  somebody's 
with  him, — it's  James  Urston !  " 

Miss  Dare  hastened  to  take  the  little  one  down ;  and 
as  she  was  i*etreatihg  into  the  house,  the  voice  of  the  meif- 
chant-churchwarden-and-magistrate  was  heard,  urging 
upon  the  young  lover,  who  had  abandoned  his  preparation 
for  the  Romish  priesthood,  the  excellence  of,  a  life  of  celi- 
bacy;  and  regretting  that  Mr.  Wellon  (though  he  was 
unmarried!  ^certainly)  was  not  under  the  obligations  of  a 
vow. 

Miss  Dane's  song  was  broken  off. 


1  f 


•w 


'I^F 


A  SAD  YOUNG  HEABT. 


97 


"^ 


CHAPTER  Xil. 


A   SAD   YOUNG  HKART. 

f"~^)HAT  quiet  day  was  passing  down  to  quiet  night; 
the  sun  was  near  his  setting,  aa  young  Urston 
came  alone  along  the  road  and  took  one  of  the 
paths  that  led  up  over  the  hill  to  the  Backside. 

He  started  at  his  name,  called  in  a  cracked  voice,  like 
that  of  a  parrot,  at  his  very  shoulder ;  and,  turning  his 
liead,  saw  that  he  was  passing  una^^  a  group  of  two 
old  women,  who  were  standing  against  a  fence,  probably 
chaffing  about  the  gossip  of  the  harbor,  or  croning  over 
memories  of  the  time  >vhen  they  (old  withered  bodies  I) 
were  thfe  young.     There  are  more  of  these  old  people 
here  than  anywhere,  almost,  so  many  overiiv^  the  three- 
score years  and  ten.    One  of  these  elders  was  the  Oranny 
Pilcliard,  ji  woman  whose  quickness  and  "activity  were 
not  exhausted  yet,  by  a  long  use  of  eighty-one  years  of 
changing  seasons,  and  as  changeful  scenes  of  life.     The 
other  gossip  was  ">01d"   Granny  Frank,  as   she   was 
called,  though  younger  than  her  comrade  by  full  seven 
years.     The  title. «  Granny,"  common  to  them  both,  is  as 
well  a  medical  and  professional  distinction,  in  Newfound- 
land, as  one  implying  age.  .    Granny  Pilchard  held  at 
this  moment  a  pitcher  in  her  hand,  which  the  young  man   . 
knewiTiit or  a  hundred,— a  little  white  one; with  juBtlT" 

VOL.  t.  7 


^ 


98 


THE  NEW   PRIEST. 


slender  line  of  blue  along  the  brim.  At  least  he  might 
have  known  it,  and  what  fair  hand  had  often  borne  it. 

"  Good  morning,  Granny,  and  you,  Granny  Frank," 
he  said,  rather  impatiently,  as  if  he  did  not  wish  to  stop. 
When  we  have  met  with  such  a  thing  as  had  lately  hap- 
pened to  young  Urston,  and  wish  to  be  alone,  we  have  at 
the  same  time  (at  all  events  the  young  have,  if  not  all 
of  us)  an  apprehension  that  it  is  all  written  in  English 
on  our  faces,  or  has  been  overheard,  or  carried  by  the 
wind  or  winged  birds ;  perhaps  James  Urston  thought 
so. 

^'  Thou'yt  goun  up  over.  Mister  Jemmie  Urston,  I 
think,"  continued  Granny  Palasher,  (this  was  her  vernac- 
ular name,^  in  pursuance  of  her  object  in  addressing  him, 
"  and  'ee'U  most  likely  want  to  stop  and  hear  for  'eeself ; 
and  so  Missis  Frank  says  I'm  wantun  up  at  Riverhead, 
she  thinks,  and  'ee'll  plase  take  this  pitcher  up  to  she.'  It's 
a  marsel  o'  water  out  o'  Har-pool  she  wanted,"  (it  will  be 
remembered,  as  James,  no  doubt,  remembered,  how  he 
drank  out  of  that  spring  that  morning,)  "and  I've  abiri 
and  got  un.  'Ee  see  he's  so  fresh  and  clear  as  the  blue 
sky,  in  a  manner.  I  wouldu'  lave;  her,  only  the  mother 
'11  be  up,  in  short.  I  s'pose  'ee  baint  afeared  to  see  her 
lovie  ?  an'  nobody  wi'  her  but  the  tother  little  one  ?  Lads 
didn't  oose  to  be  fear'd  o'  maaids,  when  1  was  one." 

Old  Granny  Frank,  at  this  allusion  to  young  days  and 
their  doings,  gurgled  in  her  throat  with  a  cracked  laugh, 
and,  when  she  could  recover  the  poor  little  wheezy  re- 
mainder of  her  voice  fpm  its  employment  in  laughing, 
uttered  a  few  shrill  and  grating,  though  not  loud,  words 
with  it,  in  confirmation  of  the  last  remark  of  her  com- 
panion,. These  came,  one  after  another,  as  if  they  were 
-Jtemped  and  tbeowflrm^  -^- ^.^-^ „-„„„ 


■'"1.  r 


...,?^"^. 


A  SAIX  YOUNG  HEART. 


99 


«  They'd— oose— to  be— tar-ri-ble— boy-ish— when— 1 
know'd — 'em."  ^ 

One  of  the  laughy  gurgles  came  after  the  words,  like 
one  that  had  been  separated  from  its  companions. 

The  more  vigorous  Granny.  Palasher  proceeded. 

"  Now,  will  'ee  be  so  well  plased  as  " 

"  I'm  in  a  great  hurry.  Granny,"  interrupted  the  young  ' 
man,  not  changing  color,  or  seeming  disconcerted,  but 
with  a  look  of  grave  determination,  "  and  I  can't  very 
well  call  there  this  evening."  - 

"Oh I  'Ee  haven'  agot  time;  have  'ee?"  said  the 
old  woman ;  then  explained  to  Granny  Frank :  «  That's 
that  pretty  Lucy  Barbury,  Granny  ! "  'Upon  which  the 
latter  urged  another  laugh  up  her  dry  throat,  and  a  few 
more  words. 

"'Mm!     So— I've— Mard!" 

"I  do'no  what  soart  thes'am'  young  folks  are,  now-a- 
days,"  said  Granny  Palasher.  « Go  thy  w'ys,  then, 
Mister  James  Urston.  I  "feeled  for  'ee,  but  mubbe  I'U 
get  another  young  man  I  knows  of,  in  a  minit." 

The  young  man  did  not  stay  for  parley. 

"You  may  get  whom  you   like,   Granny  Palasher," 
said  he.     "I  thank  you  for  your  Alwill;  but  Pm  in  a 
huny , jus>  now.     Good-day !  "     Arfd,'  leaving  the  pitcher     ' 
■  m  the  bearer's  hand,  he  mounted  tlje  hill  as  fast  as  before. 

The  granny  made  this  commeht  on  his  speech  ;— 

"  Thi^'am'  young  chap  thinks  a  body  tha,t's  abin  through 
wi'  everything,  don'  know  the  mahin'  o'  things  !  " 

The  thin,  cracked  voice  of  old  Granny  Frank  went  up 
after  him  as  he  mounted,  jerking  its  words  >—  " 

"  Isn'— 'e— a— Ro-man  ?  "  ' 

He  was  not  yet  beyond  hearing,  when  Granny  Palashex 
answered:—  -  .-  ~. 


100 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


i>^ 


"  'Is ;  but  there's  no  danger  o*  she."  .      • ' 

He  hurried  on,  and  left  the  old  gossips  to  themselves. 
Up  the,  path  he  hastened  toward  the  ridge  bounding  the 
meadow;  at   the   farther   side   of  which   stood   Skipper 
■  George's  house.  *'       .  ^ 

Mounting,  as  the  sun  mounts  up,  seems  fit  work  for  the 
•morning.     Ther£  is  a'  spring  in  the  strong,  young  body, 

'that  almost  throws  it  up  into  the  air;  and  airy  wings 
seem  to  hft  one  at  either  side.  But  it  wa^  evening,  and 
this  young  Urston  had  been,  and  was  now  going,  throu^ 
a  terrible  trial,  and  there  was  a  heaviness  about  his  mo- 
tions, and  a"  sad  paleness,  about  his  face,  that  did  not  ) 
belong  to  him. 

As  he  go't  lip  to  the  edge  of  the  little  meadow,  and  it 
lay  before  him,  with  its  several  less-distinguished  tracks, 

.  — looking  not  so  much  like  diflferent  ways,  as  the  same 
one  unstranded, — and  the  house,  backing  against  the  little 
cliff,  he  paused;  and  it  is  no  wonder.  They  say  that  on 
some  table-land,  among  the  mountains  of  Quito,  lies  a 
gorgeous  city,  in  which  the  old  Indian  race  still  holds  its 

.  own.  The'  roofs  and  battlemeiits  glitter  with  gold ;  for 
the*  people  have  kept,  from  father  to  son,  the  secret- of 
richer  mines  than  any  that  the  whites  have  found  in  Cali- 
fornia. Now,  fifty  yards  across  tha, meadow,  at  the  edge 
of  which  James  Urston  stood,  gliftered  with  many,  sheets 
of  glowing  gold,  the  liouse  in  which  Skippe?  Qeorge's 
daughter  was  lying  sick.  It  was  a  plain,  unpainted 
house,  and,  at  -any  time  when  the  gold,  which  the  morning 
or  wening  sun  laid  on  it,  had  been  taken  off,  was  but  the 
dwelling  of  an  honest,  poor  man.  Yet  he  looked  long ; 
and  it  see\ne^  as  if  he-  dared  not  set  foot  upon  that  mea- 
dow, any  more  tbin  if  it  aftd  the  house  were  an  enchanted 

^i^scene.    There  was  not  a  hundred  yards  of  space  between 


-•^•i-' 


A  SAD  TOUNG  HEART. 


101 


him  and  the  house;  but  what  a  world  of  separation  lay 
bek^egn  him  and  Skipper  George's  daughter !  The.  very 
golden  gfere  of  the  sunlight^  from  it  m  his  face—now 
fading— inc¥^sed  the  separation.  The  reflected  glqw 
faded  from  his  person,  and  he  ^hastily  crossed  the  ridge, 
and  passed  on.   ,      .  -    ' 


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102 


T^  NEW  PBIEST. 


0. 


CHAPTER  XIIl. 


A    GREAT    LOSS. 


m 


the  night  of  the  day  of  which  we  hkve  boon 
writing,  (that  fifteenth  day  of  August,)  Mr.  Wellon, 
who  had  come  across,  in  his  way  home,  from  Por- 
tugal Cove  to  Sandy  Harbor,  in  a  boat  belonging  to  the 
latter  place,  was  sitting  late  in  conversation  with  Mr. 
Kewers,  the  clergyman  of  Sandy  Harbor,  when  suddienl}^* 
the  'Society'*. schoolmaster,  a  man  of  an  inquiring  and 
excitable  turn  of  mindjliame  knocking  at  the  door,  and 
announced,  eagerly,  that  some  strange  work  seemed  to  be 
going  on  in  Peterport.  He  said  the  lights  were  moving 
abbut,  and  there  was  an  unusual  noise ;  something  must 
be  the  matter  there. 

At  this  intelligence  the  two  clergymen  hastily  started 
forth,  in  company  with  the  schoolmaster,  for  Blading ^ 
Head, — i^  lower  and  back  part  of  Sandy  Harbor, — from 
which  a  view  of  Peterport  (when  it  was  to  be  seen)  could 
be  had.  They  reached,  after  a  few  minutes'  walk,  a  high 
point,  and  saw  the  lights,  like  running  sparks  in  chimney 
soot,  and  heard  plainly,  over  the  water,  in  lulls  of  the  wind, 
the  sound  of  human  voices.  At  tliis  liour  of  night,  and 
with  the  wind  bringing  in  the  -great  murmur  of  the  sea, 
thd'  far-off  f«ound  of  human  voices  was  far  more  than  com- 
tborfy  impressive. ^ 


Of  tba  Newfoundland  School  Society. 


^;&». 


.■^:, 


A  tSREAT^LOSS. 


108 


The  schoolmaster,  who  had  been  in  the  island  for  a 
good  many  years,  spoke  of  the  " '  Rjills,'  *  long  ago."  Mr. 
Wellon  determined  to  jgo  home  as  fast  as  possible,  and  the 
schoolmaster  offered  to  get  a  punt,  and  (if  he  might)  go 
with  him.  So,  within  an  hour,  they  were  crossing  from  Back 
^ove,  under  a  steady  rain,  with  Bissell  and  his  son,  coop- 
ers, who  ferry  chgnce-passengers  from  that  side.  It  was 
so  dark  that  a  great,  round,  peely  hill  of  rock  which  forms 

one  side  of  Back  Cove— <^se  to  which  they  were could 

not  bo  seen.  They  set  their  lantern  in  the  bow  of  the 
punt,  and  with  a  strong,  and  steady,  slow  stroke,  the  boat- 
•  men  cautiously  felt  their  way  along.  T|0Iini8ter  steered, 
the  schoolmaster,  by  way  of  m£|king  himself  useful,  as  he 
had  proposed,  armed  himself  With  a  spare  par,  and  under- 
took to  row,  a  way  of  being  useful,  which,  after  several 
times  "catching  crabs,"  as  sailors  call  it,  and  once  nearly 
demolishing  the  lantern  in  falling  over  backwards,  he  ex- 
changed for  that  of  holding  the  light  and  looking  out. 

The  rain  poured  straight  down,  drenchingly ;  and 
(though  a  good,  thick  overcoat  is  almost  water-proof,)  its 
steady  falling  brought  tha  whole  company  to  silence,  as  it 
had  already  deadened  the  wind,  and  smoothed"  the  waves 
down  to  the  ground-swell.^  In  about  three  quarters  of  an 
hour  they  made  the  shore  of  Peterport,  below  their  point 
of  destination,  and  worked  up  to  it. 

Marchanta'  Cove  was  all  still  and  dark,  except  a  light 
in  Mr.  O'Rourke's  house ;  the'  lights  and  sounds  were 
further  down  the  harbor.  The  Minister  left  his  compan- 
ions herc^^the  schoolmaster  keeping  the  boatmen's  com- 
pany, to  be  sure  of  his  passage  back,)  and  alone  went 
•lowD  tlie  road,  and  took  the  first  considerable  path  over 

--*  T^*'.'  ^^^'i  "  (rallies)  were  riotous  gathoringg,  dmlnif  th«  diitWM 
occroioTrerfTsy  rtie  Americnn  and  Frencli  "Wars.  ~ 


»iimiii«is*v    ■   vj|,.iyT'n« 


♦  I. 


104 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


to  the  Backside)  tne  place  to  w^ch  they  had  some  hours 
before  be^  strainmg  their  eyes  so  eagerly,  from  Blazing^ 
Head. 

On  the  road  he  met  no  one  as  he  had  met  no  one  in 
Marchants'  Cove ;  but  as  he  drew  near  the  meadow  in 
which  Skipper  George's  house  stood,  he  heard  women's 
voices,  and  by-and-by  came  upon  a  company,  whom  by 
the  ear,  not  by  the  eye,  he  could  distinguish  as  Old  Granny 
Frank  and  others  of  the  neighbors.  They  recognized 
him,  and  announced  among  themselves,  as  he  drew  near, 
" the  Pareson  I" 

People  in  this  country  take  no  heed  of  weather,  (when 
they  have  good  reason  to  be  out,)  except  to  dress  accord- 
ingly. »^ 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Frank ! "  cried  he,  addressing  the  eldest, 
(as  (Edipus  addressed  the  old  man  of  the  chorus,)  but 
turning  for  answer  to  the  others,  "what  has  happened?" 

The  old  woman  was  doubtless  making  up  her  mouth 
to  speak,  but,  happily,  her  grandson's  wife  spoke  for 
het. 

"  Haven'ee  hard  about  Skipper  George's  darter,  sir, — 
that's  Lucy  Barbury, — how  she's  been  atookt  out  of  her 
father's  house,  ever  sunce  last  evenun,  and  never  a  word 
oomed  about  her,  sunce,  whatever  ?  " 

"Taken  away  1"  exclaimed  the  Minister,  turning  from 
one  to  another  in  amazement,  "  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  'Is — sir, — an' — her — bed=— wi' — her  ;  "  gurgled  the 
Granny,  gaiiAig  her  speech. 

"They'm  bin  sarchunttll  over,  sir,"  added  Patience 
Frank,  "  an*  Skipper  George  •'s  inside  now,  w'itun  for 


'ee." 


"  Let  me  see !  **  said  the  Minister,  staying  for  no  further 
tulfc,  but  hurrying  towards  the  house. 


LOSS. 


105 


The  oM  and  young  women,  and  others,  loitered  for  a 
little  gossip,  and  to  hear  the  end. 

"  Did  'ee  see  the  Paresbn,  Grannie,  when  I  told  un'? 
Did'ee  see  un  shake  his  head  ?  " 

"  To — be— sure— 'e — would,"  answered  Old  Granny 
Frank  oracularly.  o 

"  'E  did  then ;  shookt  it  just  ^is  w'y,"  continued 
Patience.     "  What  do  'ee  think.  Granny  ?  " 

"  It — '11 — be — sid,"  answered  the  granny,  in  her  jerky 


way. 


u  > 


-says — 
-"  said 


E — doned — I — two — shillun — worth — o' — good 
— wi' — a — pr*y'r— e' — made — t'oth-er — d'y." 

"  Did  um,  then  ?     I  shouldn'  wonder  !  " 
,    "  WuU  ! — some — says — an-gels  — an' —  some- 
faa-ir-ies  ;  — but — I — knows — whatr— I^-r-thinks,- 
the  possessor  of  threescore  years  of  observation  and  ex- 
perience. 

"  All  so,  Granny ! "  assented  Patience,  who^  if  she 
should  live  so  long,  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  as  wise,  "  I 
thinks  gezac'ly  the  same." 

"  Ay, —  child, —  it — '11  —  be  —  sid  —  a-fore — ^ma-ny-Sh. 
d'ys — be — up ; "  and  the  old  body  hurried  away,  while 
she  had  her  mystery  entire. 

As  the  two  speakers  separated,  the  little  gathering  drew 
nearer  to  the  cottage-door,  with  new  food  for  speculation 
in  the  granny's  utterance,  which  had,  somehow,  invested 
the  subject  in  a  more  ominous  perplexity  tHan  before. 

The  clergyman  passed  straight  to  the  chimney,  where 
the  afflicted  father  sat,  among  many  others,  indeed,  but 
the  one  of  them  all.  There  he  was ;  not  even  smoking 
the  accustomed  pipe,  but  with  his  hands  upon  his  knees 
and  his  chin  buried  in  his  breast,  looking  upon  the  kitchen  f 
fire.     He  did  not  sit  despondently  and  slouchingly,  but 


upright  like^  a  man ;  and  Eke  a  man  wlio,lLaving  done 


^'i* 


106 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


irhatever  could  be  done  as  yet,  was  waiting  to  set  forth 
again  and  do  whatever  might  be  left  for  man  to  do.  A 
crowd  of  neighbors  made  their  way  in  after  Mr.  Wellon. 
rose,  except  the  father,  at  the  sudden  entrance  of  the 
Minister;  the  father  did  not  notice  it. 

At  the^i3<Hind,  however,  he  immediately  turned  round  ; 
and  a  more  honest,  manly,  kind,  true  face  than  his,  has 
seldom  met  the  op^air,  and  the  broad  sunlight,  or  fronted 
tearing  wind,  or  drenching  rain,  or  driving  ,snow  ;  had 
seldom  met  warm  welcomViTrom  the  wife,  as  it  was  seen 
through  the  half-opened  door,\pr  beamed  complacently 
upon  the  frolic  of  the  children  at  the  hearth ; — but  it  was 
clouded  now.  He  took  off  his  weather'^m  straw  hat,  u\ 
rising  to  recejve  the  Pastor.  \ 

"  Sarvant,  sir ;  you're  very  welcome  home  again,"  said 
he.  \ 

"  Why,  Skipper  George  ! "  said  the  Minister,  "  what  is 
it  my  good  friend  ?  Do  tell  me  ! "  Then  pressing  him 
silently  to  a  seat,  the  Minister  sat  down  to  listen. 

"  Ah,  sir,"  the  father  said,  "  I've  a-sid  heavy  misfort'n 
sunce  the  last  sun  as  ever  rose.  It's  my  Lucy,  sir;  you 
know'd  her  sir," — his  voice  breaking, — "so  well  as  I 
a'most,  and  oh !  how  she  did  love  the  Minister  to  be  sure  ! 
well,  sir,  she  was  sick  from  short  after  you  laved  the 
harbor  tuU  this  evenun :  that's  'isterday  evenun,  I  should 
say." — He  sighed  as  he  thus  reminded  himself  of  the 
time  already  gone,  by  which  the  separation  had  been  so 
much  widened. — "  She  was  goun  through  the  worse  of  it, 
and  we  thowt,  naterally,  that  as  she  didn'  get  no  worse 
she  would  get  better,  if  it  was  Bis  will,  and  so  the  doctor 
said,  (that's  Dr.  Aylwin,  sir,  of  Brigus.)  So  when  I  turns 
out  in  the  mamin  'isterday, — which  I  doned  nearly  about 
^ifP^^be  feat  Bnii,=-^after  Fd^aid  my  fell  of  a  pF*yef,l  ^y'l 


d'gjtf*-  ilMtfe«M^iJt.iJ-A.^...i.  ,Ll^^ 


fe.. 


^^•^  a^-*'v*'«'>«^>'7,-i  -j'-T;^Ji^ 


•*x^-/a-' 


;-iF^^^- 


.Tt»    )   ^  ^   -■  ■' 


■iF?<:TS?sp^W'^{9f'^^W*= 


A  GREAT  LOSSi 


107 


to  myself;  as  a  body  ViU,  you  linhwi^,  I  says,  nqw  I 
think  I'U  jes  go  down  to  B'y  Hart/or,  mabbe,' after  I  go^ 
through  fishing,  and  get  a^marsel  b?  figs,*  or  sech-like,  for 
my  poor,  dear  maid ;  hopin,  maVhap,  the  faver  m'y  take 
a  turn,  and  then  they'd  help  her  lo  goody  a  bit;  and  any- 
how I  had  a  two  and  sixpence  that  I'd  a-kep  this  many's 
the  d'y  against  I  may  want  it,  and  a  body  likes  to  do 
summat  cheery  for  a  sick  darter  whenohe  can ;  so  I  goes 
and  I  looks  upon  her,  and,  to  my  seemin',  she  looked  jest 
as  ef  it  wus  an  angel  a  layin'  there,  that  had  put  on  my 
gal's  look,  and  her  face,  and  her  hair.     She  looked  so 
bright   somehow,— so   oncommon   bright,  I ,  was  a'most 
afeared  to  kiss  her ;  but  I  did,  sir,  thank  God ;  I  did,  sir, 
and  it  seemed  in  a  manner,  to  bring  my  darter  back  ;  for 
she  says,  very  low  like, '  Father ! '  she  says, '  What  lovey  ? ' 
says  I;  '  Dear  father!*  says  she,  and  nothin'  more;  and 
I  couldn'  help  it,  but  I  ctied  much  as  I'm  doin'  now,  sir ; 
but  I  do'no  why  I'm  so  long  a  tellin'  it,  on'y  I'm  afeared 
to  get  upon  the  rest  of  it.     However,  I  went  out  and 
comed  home  wi'  my  few  fish,  and  hurried  and  got  off  and 
went  over. to  Backside,  and  got  myself  put  over  to  Bread 
an'  Cheese  Cove,  and  so  travelled  afoot  the  rest  part  o' 
the  w'y,  and  got  the  trifle  o'  things,  and  came  round  by 
Castle  B'y  river-head.     I  s'pose  I  might  be  gone  a  matter 
of  six  hours,  most  likely ;  wiien  I  got  to  th^  top  'o  the 
hill  by  the  church  and  sid  llie  house,  I  s'pose  I  might  'a 
felt  it  was  empty;  but  I  didn't,  sir.     It  seemed,  in  a 
manner,  as  ef  strength  blowed  out  of  it,  somehow,  to  me, 
I  growed  so  much  livelier;  and  I  stowed  aw'y  my  little 
parcels  in  my  pockets,  thinkin',  perhaps,  she'd  feel  in  'em, 
pl'ying  like,  as  she'd  oose  to  do,  when  she  feeled  her^lf 
better.     So  I  walks  up  to  the  door,  and  lo  and  behold  it 


t< 


<   i 


*  In  common  parlance  this  word  means  raisins. 


•H  3: 


108 


.  THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


was  open ;  but  I  thought  nothin'  strange  and  I  went  in, 
and  right  into  the  place  where  I'd  aleft  her,  sir,  and^she 
wasn't  there.  *  Mother ! ' — says  I ;  but  my  missis  wasn't 
there:  *  Granny  ! '  says  I, but  she  wasn't  there  ;  then  my  • 
t'other  little  gal  that  was  sittin'  down  by  the  door,  tryin' 
to  tie  her  shoe,  and'cryun',  said,  '  Daddy,  she's  gone  aw'y, 
Dad^y,*  she  said, '  Daddy,  she's  gone  aw'y^^Daddy ; '  and 
my  heart  went  once  jest  as  a  fish  would  go,  and  I  never 
asked  her  who  she  maned,  but  I  sid  there  wa^  soraethun 
tarrible  strange  ;  and  so  I  sat  down  on  the  binch  and  gave 
one  great  sigh  like,  that  seemed  to  ase  me  ;  and  then  I 
got  up  and  tookt  my  poor  little  papers  and  put  them  on 
the  bed,  and  follyed  right  out  to  see  ef  I  could  find  what  * 
had  becomed  of  h6r.  So  we  sarched  all  evenun,  and  we've 
asarched  all  night;  and  so— ^I'm  sittun  here,  as  I  be 
now,  sir, — "Twas  a  bad  night  for  she  1 — Ah,  well  f  God 
knows." 

As  he  said  this  the  bereaved  man  sat  and  wept,  openly 
and  steadily,  in  silence.  Not  a  motion  was  made  nor 
a  word  said  until  he  wiped  his  eyes  with  the  back  of  his 
hand,  and  turned  his  horiest,  manly  face  again,  and  said  : — 

"  I  found  my  mistress  ;  an'  I  found  Granny  Palasher ; 

.      an'  I  sid  Miss  Dare  that  was  just  comun  up  ;  I  could  find 

-  ^^yery  body  ;  but  we  never  found  my  dear  young  maid ! 

It^sn'  like  We  woul',  sir.     Grod's  will  be  done,  however. 

'E'llNJo  what  'E  sis  best." 

TheNsimple  story  ended,  he  turned  quietly  away  from 
his  hearer,  as  if  there  were  nothing  more  fpr  him  to  say, 
and  he  would  listen  now. 

The  Minister  came  up  and  took  his  hand  in  both  his, 
and  said  "  Amen  I "  There  was  a  general  motion  among 
tne  company,  and  many  repeated  the  word.  The  Minis- 
ter's^oTcelreraBled  as  Be  said— ^ 


A  GREAT  LOSS. 


109 


"God  bless  you  I  Skipper  George  ;  we  must  find  her, 

or  find "     He  paused. 

The  fisherman  made  that  most  expressive  gesture  of 
head  and  hand  which  is  read  in  aU  languages,  and  touches 
any  class  of  men,  meaning — 
"  Ah  !  you  needn't  'say  it,  sir!  I  know." 
"Let's  see  where  we  are,"  said  the  Minister,  and  he 
turned  toward  the  company,  among  whom  was  the  con- 
stable. •  "  Mr.  Gilpin,  you  know  all  aboutit'?"  he.asked 
of  this  worthy  man,  who  was,  also,  one  of  the  two  smiths  .^ 
of  the  place.    Charles  Gilpin—"  Mr.  Galpin,"  «  Mr.  Gult 
pin,"  "Skipper  CharUe,"  as  he  was  variously  called,  was 
an  Englishman,  middle  sized,  with  a  face  dark  by  nat^rer  q 
and  always  wearing  a  shade  of  grime  from  his  "  forge,"   ^  ' 
and  slightly  pitted  by  the  varioloid.     His  right  eye  wJs 
wanting,  having  been  destroyed  by  an  accident  in  firing  a     n 
salute  on  the  king's  birthday,  in  one  of  his  own  younger 
hours.     The  remaining  orb  in  that  firmament  seemed  as 
much  brighter  as  if  the  other  had  been  absorbed  into  it, 
and  had  joined  its  fires.     He  was  an  intelUgent,  pleasant 
looking  fellow,  with   that  quick  motion  of  the  muscles 
about  the  eye  that  marks  the  possession  of  humor. 

"I've  done  my  best  at  it,  sir,"  answered  the  constable, 
with  modest  brevity. 
"  Who  saw  Lucy  last  ?  " 

« I  can  tell  'ee,  sir,  ef  'eeU  plase  to  let  me;^sgldlhe 
brave  old  fisherman.  « IVe  got  it  alKlbfheart,  in  a 
manner.  'Twas  Granny  Palasher  ha^ened  to  be  bidin 
wi'  her,  (for  we  didn'  oose  to  have  re^ar  watchers  d'y- 
times,  sir,  only  we  never  laved  her  lonk)  an'  so  Lucy 
waked  up  and  caUed  for  a  drink,  grann^says;  an'  she 
didn'  want  tay,  an'  she  did'n  want  spruce.*  an'  she  wftnte«i 


4 


♦  Spmce  beer ;  a  common  beverage. 


,*iSfi  i  Ji'  b",  a  >-U  **j«-^J,iX«. 


110 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


a  drink  from  the  Harpool — that's  it  in  the  hollow  under 
the  bank,  t'other  side  o'  the'church,  you  know,  ^ir ;  an'  so 
the  granny  went  aw'y  to  fetch  it,  never  thinkun  o'  naw- 
thun,  of  course,  an'  nobody's  sid  a  sign  of  her  sunce,  only 
poor  little  Janie  said  she  goed  round  the  comer." 

"  How  long  was  the  granny  gone  ?  " 

"  I  can'  be  exac'ly  accountable,  sir,  how  long  she  was 
aw'y ;  she  m'y  ha'  stopped  to  pass  a  word  wi'  a  nighbor, 
sartainly,  but  'twouldn'  be  long,  it  isn'  likely." 

"  Who  hves  nearest  on  the  Backsidfe'  ?  The  Urstons,  I 
think." 

"  Is,  sir ;  Mr.  Urstoii,that  married  my  missis's  niece." 

"  The  father  of  the^oung  man  that  was  going  to  be  a 
Romish  prieait?"  ask^d  the  Minister. 

*^  'Is,  sir ;  but  'e've  knocked  off  beun'  a  good  while  sunce, 
and  'e's  a  good  lad,"  said  the  father,  shutting  off  all  sus- 
picion in  that  quarter. 

"  How  do  things  stand  between  your  family  and  their's, 
now  ?  "  asked  the  Minister.  » 

"Mr.  Urston's  wife  was  my  missis's  sister,  'ee  know, 
sir, — that  is,  half-sister, — and  then  my  missis  is  a  good 
bit  younger,  and  was  abrought  up  in  England,  mostly, 
tuU  she  was  a  woman.  'Twas  Mr.  Urston  an'  his  s6n  put 
me  over  from  Backside  to  Bread-and-Cheese  Cove.  I 
maned  to  ax  Tummas  Turtas, — lives  a  bit  beyond  they, — 
when  they  were  goun  down  to  waterside,  and  offers  me  a 
passage,  an'  J  could  n'  deny  'em.  Ah !""  he  said,  coming 
back  to  his  great  grief,  "  she's  alossed  now,  that  I  wou^  n' 
loss  for  all  the  fish  in  the  sea,  and  swiles  on  the  ice,  and 
fruits  o'  the  land !  Thank  'ee,  kindly,  sir ;  I  ax  pardon 
for  bein'  so  troublesome.  'Ee'll  plase  to  excuse  me, 
nigjibors."  So  saying,  Skipper  George  prepared  to  go 
""forth  again^  ''^^'''^~  " 


V 


A  >i^T  LOSS.  Ill 

"It  isn' delight,  yet;  is  it?'*  he  asked,  putting  great 
restraint  upon  himself. 

"  Light's  begmnun  to  come  up  over,  Uncle  George," 
said  Prudence  Barbury. 

Here  the  memory  of  the  pleasant  times  and  pleasant 
words  that  were  gone,  or  the  thought  of  sadness  present 
or  to  come,  again  overcame  him,  as  also  his  words  and  his 
condition  were  more  than  some  of  his  sturdy  neighbors 
could  bear. 

"She  was  too  good  for  this  world,"  said  one;  "an' 
that's  where  she's  gone,  most  like."  ^ 

"  No,  Nahthan,  it  w<)n't  do  for  'ee  to  say  that,"  said  the 
father;  and  then  explained.  "They  manes  that  God 
have  tookt  her,  sir,  (blessed  be  'E's  name !)  as  'E  tookt 
Enoch,  in  a  manner,  because  o'  what  Jesse  sid ;  (that's 
my  nevy,  Jesse  of  Abram, — lives  under  the  brow  o'  the 
hill,— Jesse  Hill,  we  calls  un ;)  I  didn'  tell  'ee,  sir.  'E 
was  over  on  the  water  against  Backside,  wi'  another, 
jiggin'  for  squids,-^  an'  'e  sid  somethin'  like  a  maid  or  a 
'oman,  aU  dressed  in  white,  like  an  ^ngel,  goun  over 
Backside-w'y ;  and,  all  of  a  suddent,  she  was  gone  right 
aw'y  like.  'E  couldn'  tell  ef  the  groun'  was  stove,  or 
parted  under  her,  or  how,  'e  said ;  but  it  seemed  to  be 
gone  right  aw'y,  an'  they  never  sid  hef  come,  no  more ; 
and  so  'e  corned  right  aw'y  home,  and  told  the  people  'e 
thof't  'e'd  asid  a  spirit ;  but  sure,  there's  nawthin'  in  tfti^ 
sir ;  is  there .?  On'y,  mubbc,  it  might  be  a  kind  df  a 
visage,t   like,  that    my   poor  child   would    never  come 


back. 


There  may  be  a  good  deal  in  it,"  answei-ed  the  Min- 


ister. 


Jf  Catchiog  a  fish  feat  senrea  for  baifc. 
t  Vision. 


m 


/ 

^ 


.#. 


U2 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


The  eyes  of  all  were  intently  fixed  on  him,  and  the 
father,  even,  lifted  his  from  the  fire.. 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  any  spirit,"  continaed  their  Pastor. 
ji^What  dothes  had  Lucy  on,  most  likely  ?  "■ 

"  Oh !  nawthin',  sir,  but  just  as  she  was  in  hed.  It  'ud 
make  a  strange  body  cry,  a'most,  to  see  'er  poor  frock 
hangin'  up  there,  and  'er  twio  shoes  standin'  by  the  side  o' 
the  bed,  an'  she  aw'y,  an'  never  coraun  back,  most 
likely.  Many's  the  time  I've  alooked  at  they,  sunce,  an' 
cried  ;  it  looks  so  heartless,  like." 

The  people  about  Skipper  George  were  np  "  strange 
bodies ;"  and  some  of  them  could  not  help  doing  as  he  had 
done,  and  as  he  did. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  he,  rising  to  depart,  and  holding  his 
weather-worn  straw  hat  in  his  two  honest  hands,  "  I  think 
'ee  knows  all."  '  '  ^ 

"I  wouldn't  have  you  go  out  again,  just  yet,"  said  the 
Minister.  "  I'll  take  my  turn,  now,  and  any  fresh  hands 
that  I  can  find." 

"  Here's  one,  then,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  constable,  start-  • 
ing  to  his  ^eet. 

"Haven't  you  been  out  alh night?"  asked  the  Min- 
ister. 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  not  all  day  yet ;  we've  got  the  day  be- 
fore us.     I  can  sleep  when  we've  got  done." 

"  Then  I'll  be  back,  God  willing,  in  little  more  than 
half  an  hour ;  and,  if  yoU  please,  well  go  as  far  as  we've 
any  thing  to  guide  us.     I  wish  to  go  over  the  ground,  at  ^ 
least,  if  nothing  comes  of  it."  , 

"  I'm  sure  'ee  woul',-  sir,"  said  the   fathei*,'  in  a  very 
kindly  way.     "  It's  no  use  ;   I  cah't  %  out  plans  now. 
I've  got  my  handes,  and  something  to  make  'em  work;" 
-^©ae  might  ahnost  se^  a  great,  grieviw  heart  heaTe,  ai'" 


^-v^ 


■¥ 


A  GREAT   LOSS. 


\n 


< 


he  said  this.)     «  ni  bide  'E's  will ;  an'  ef  I  never  sis  her  ■ 
walking  on  this  land,  I  may  in  a  better,  ef  it's  'E's  wiH  » 

As  he  spoke  of  not  agairVgeeing  her,  in  >he  body,  he  ' 
brought  up,  with  the  palm  outward;  his  honest,  hard  hand 
whose  fingers  were  bent  with  long  years^  toil,  and>rust 
away  some  too  attractive, vision,  and,  as  he  said^e  last 
uords,  brought  it  down  agaiiv  io  its  former  occupation  of 

lioklmg  the  rinvof  his  hat.  " "  " "  '  "  "■  »   -    - '  ^  ■ 

He  stood   still  with  his   grief;   and,  as  Mr!   Wellon 
pressed  his  honest,  hdrd  hand,  he  hfted  to  his  Pastor  one 
of  those  cliildUkeJooks  that  only  comx3  out  on  the  face  of  f 
the  true  man,  that  has  grown,  as  oaks  grow,  ring  Ground 
nng,  addmg  each   after-agTTo  the   childhood  that  has 
never  been  lost^but  has  been  kept  innermost.     This  fish- 
erman seemed  fike  one  of  those  that  phed  their  trade 
and  were  the  Lord's  disciples,  at  the   Sea  of  GaUlee' 
eighteen  hundred  years  ago.     The  very  flesh  and  blood 
inclosmg  such  a  nature  keep  a  long  youth  through  life. 
Witness  the  genius,  (who  Is  only  the  more  thorough  man  ) 
poet,  paihtpr,  sculptor,  finder-out,  or  whatever";  how  fresh 
and  fair  such  an  pne,..fepks.  out  from  under  his  old  age. 
Let  him  be  Christian,  too,  and  he  shall  Toolk  "as  ff^^r^Bd- 
ding  this,outward-the  inward-  being  would  walk  forih  a 
glorified  one.      \  :  ■  ^ 

"  Sit  here,  among  your   neighbors,  Skipper  George  '^ 
the  Minister  said ;. « I  mean  td  be  back  shprtfy.—AnothJr 
iivi-at  grief  t^nd  mystery  in  our  little  harbor !  "  he  added 
as  Ik;  turned  awjay.    -  ,.  j 

With  these  words,  he  left  his  sorrowing  parishioner's 
nouse,  and  went  forth. 


>< 


VOL^  I. 


1 


IH 


^1^.     w 


TH^  VEW  PKIJCST. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


A  NEW   WAN. 


■\^ 


S  Mr.  Wellon  left  the  room,  the  attention  of  the 
company  was  drawn  to  a  new  voice,  that  seemed 
almost  to  have  been  started  mechanically  by  the 
general  rising,  so  suddenly,  and.  without  wari\ing,  it  began, 

"  Why,  sh^'s  cleared  out  'n  one  'f  her  hot  spells,  an' 
when  she'd  got  light-headed;  's  no  kind  o'  doubt  o*  that 
'n  my  mind,"  said  the  strange  voice.  ' 

The  speaker  was  an  under-size^ynan,  of  thirty-eight 
or  forty  ye^irs,  with  well-looking  Mfures,  and  bright,  in- 
telligent eyes.  lEs  scanty  hair  went  curling  downwards 
from  a  bald  spot  on  the  top  of  his  head,  for  which,  also,  a 
part  of  the  neighboring  locks  were  compelled  to  furnish  a 
thin  covering.  The  baldness  had  been  \vorn  rather  by 
the  weight  of  the  months'  feet  that  had  gone  over  it,  than 
by  %ir  number,  or  had  been  dried  by  inward  heat  of 
busy  thought ;  his  dress  was  such  as  would"  becom^^^  a 
higher  sort  of  mechanic,  or  a  tradeRt)n  a  modest  sea] 

The  sentence  seemed  to  be  delivSd  forthright  inj 
*lniddle  of  a  world  all  full  of  opinions,  and  questionsf^ 
determhiations,  to  Hnd  itself  a^lace.  He  looked  before 
him,  bpC|gth  eyes  that  seer^d  to  look  at  the  same  time 
to  ei  th'(^^|||!Uagd\|iis  tone  had  a  character  of  continu- 
ance, as^^BgmglljIgun-^it  rested  with  circumstances 


ff-pif 


M-)  -f 


A  NEW  MAN. 


115 


;^      The  company  having  composed  itself,  after  (he  Minis- 
ter s  departure,  the  new  speaker  was  seated,  tilting  back 
^  in  his  chair,  with  his  right  ancle  resting  on  his  left  knee, 
and  his  hat  m  his  lap.  • 

"  ^f  ^^°i»;  ^e  continued,  «  question  is,  which  way  d'd 

!.^°/^S''^  ""^'"^  ^"^^'^  sot  to  judge  f'r  'imself 
"  M^n^^^  ^''^^^^'^'  °^'g^t  come  p'ty  nigh  it,  'f  w' 
"^m^i^  it  over  a  Utile?'  .    ^  -^     "      '      ^ 

miMaying  this  the  speaker  took  an  opportunity  to 
ice  at  each  of  the  remaining  speakers  of  the  forrter 
di.ilogae,.and  at  the  rest  of  the  company,  generally,  and 
meeting  with  no  let  or  hindrance,  seeSied  to  think  that  he 
had  found  a  place  for  his  opinion,  and  Went  on  more  eon- 
fidently  than  before.  He  did  not  look  at  Skipper  George, 
at  whom  h^.  chiefly  talked,  but  lo6ked  to  the  left  hand  of 
him.  '^  ,        ^  . 

Thefatfter  regarded  him  with  grave  earnestness.     The 
.constable,   after   flashing    his   eye   at    Skipper    George,- 
watclied,  curiously,  the  new  interlocutor ;  and  the  other 
neighbors  listened  with  different  degrees  of  eagerness. 

f5  1  understand,  f'm  what's  ben  said  t'-night,  'n''f'in 
what  I  ve  heard  before  I  come-('m  pooty  much  t'  home 
"  l^eterport,  ben  here  twelve  hours  o'  daylight,  an'  'taint 
^^^e  placej^'t's  pooty  gen'lly  und'stood,  I  guess,  't 
t^is  young  lady,  'r  gal-whatever  ye  may  call  her-'Ster 
j^bu^ daughter, here,"  (turning to ^the  fisherman,  who 
W»,     Is,  sir,  thank'ee,  my  darter,  an'  more  than  darter 
■for  the    Ike  of  I ; ")  's  be'n  sick  'f  a  sort  'fa-typhoid 
they  call  em  'th  us,-same  't  they've  had  down  'n  Mar- 
chants    Cove,  there,  's  ye  call  it.     Wall !  I  never  saw  s' 
many  folks  out  o'  their  liead  'th  that  fe^er  's  they  is  here,  ' 
not  reglar  hoppiri  mad,  but^  out  o'  kilter  'n   the  unper 
regions,  's  th^  sayjrf  is7~ Wall, ipw,-nlhelorfit  q^   ^ 


(aMft€ 


# 


H6 


*   JHB  NEW  PRIEST. 


on,  't  'd  ipake  her  strooger,  an'  when  her  mind  's  out  o' 
the  yr.&y,je  see,  'twould,  likeiy,  make  her  want  t'  try  an' 
^  do  somethin'."  > 

The  interest  with  which  his  hearers  had  been  hstening 
was  evidently  not  flagging. 

"  It*8  Mister  Banks,  the  American  marchant,"  said  Pa- 
tience Frank,  (for  she  was  there,)  to  a  neighbor-woman. 

"  Wall,  the^i,  question  comes :  what  would  she  do  ? 
Why,  'cordin'  to.  She  wanted  a  drink  o'  water,  f  one  thing  ; 
wall,  s'pose  she  'as  very  dry^  sh'  might  go  off  to  git  some, 
Kkely.  'F  all^he  wanted  was  water  t'  cool  her,  sh'  might 
take  't  into  her  head  to  git  into  the  water  ;  but,  then,  bein' 
crazy  don't  make  a  fool  'fa  gal,  'f  sh'  wa'n't  one  b'fore;- 
and  they  wa'n't  any  thin'  lik'  that  'bout  this  young  lady. 
Then,  don't  ye^see,  the'  was  lots  o'  folks,  by  all'counts,  on 
the  flakes,  (ye  call  'em,)  an'  round,  an'  one  of  'em  's  her 
mother ;  so  ^she  didn't  go  down  that  way,  whether  or  no. 
Wall,  then,  again,  'tain't  likely  she  was  all  thust ;  she  had 
some  notions  b'sides  that :  (we  ain't  all  flesh  and  blood,  I 
guess.)     Le's  see." 

It  wa8»>8trange  to  see  the  unflagging  attention  of  the  au- 
dience to  this  lengthened  argument,  given,  as  it  was,  with 
no  attractions  of  oratory,  or  enforcement  of  gesture,  except 
,  an  invariable  sticking  of  the  thumb  and' forefinger ^f  the 
right  hand  into  the  palm  of  the  left,  (much  as  we  have 
known  a  good  old  Greek  professor  to  practise  with  his 
pencil  and  a  hole  in  his  inkstand.)  There  was  a  persist- 
ency and  push  in  the  arguer's  voice,  and  an  adhesiveness 
in  his  expressions,  that  carried  his  reasonings  in,  and 
made  them  stick.  So  there  was  a* general  assenting  in 
words, -besides  silent  affirmations  and  negations  of  the 
head,  as  he  affirmed  and  denied. 
-^"  Thnt'fi  4tckftr  «a8»l^  ii^Wly  1  '^-"^ Attw, wf^nnd 


14 


A  NEW  MAN. 


117 


the  like,  refreshed  the  speaker  nduch  as  the  parenthetic 
"  hear  "  and  cheers  of  the  House  of  Commons,  or  as  th© 
plaudits  of  the  Athenians  gratified  Demosthenes. 

Tlie  constable,  as  if  his  cue  were  only  to  keep  oflftcial 
eye  aM  ear  upon  the  speaker,  let  him  go  on,  without 
meddling  with  him,  and  kept  silence.  The  father  heard 
Mr.  Bangs  with  steady  attention.  > 

"  Wall ! "  continued  the  reasoner,  « then  comes  ques- 
tion again  ;  which  way  ?  Sis'  says  right,  no  doubt  Sh* 
went  right  round  the  corner  o'  the^  house,  an'  down  to— - 
back  part  o'  the  place,  here—"       ■^'' ' 

"  'Is ;  Backside,  sir,  we  calls  it,"  says  a  neighbor. 

"  Wall,  't's  a  good  name,  no  doubt.  The's  two  roads 
goin'  'long,  up  an'  down,  I  believe — " 

"  'Is,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  neighbors ;  « there's  the 
summer  w'y  and  the  winter  w'y,  by  Cub's  Cove,  and 
the  Cosh,  and  so  into  the  woods." 

"Fact,  r  benbn  both  of  'ep  myself,"  continued  the 
speaker.  "  Then  the's  a  path'giiin  fronftkipper  George's 
(s'pose  I  ought  to  call  him) — " 

"  It's  a  compliment  they  pays  un,"  said  the  constable. 

"  Don't  heed  it,  sir,"  said  the  stout  fisherman  ;  «  George 
is  plenty  good  enough  for  I,  alw'ys  ;  and,  most  of  all, 
now." 

If  the  kindness  that  lies  in  such  compliments  embellishes 
common  times,  there  is  no  danger  of  times  of  sorrow 
wantmg  them.  The  reasoner  resumed,  keeping  the  title 
now  that  he  had  got  it.  ' 

"  The's  a  path  from  Skipper  George's  right  acrost  these 
two  roads,  (that  is,  ye  call  'em  roads  'n  this  country)  wall, 
I  guess  she  kep'  the  path  t'U  she  got  to  these  two  roads, 
('f  ye  call  'em  so,)  f 'r  't's  plaguey  hard  makin  tnu'-ks  oufc^ 


side  of  a  road,  here— (fact,  'tain't  al'a's  the  easiest  trav- 


17 


118 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


ellin'  in  'em,  b't  that's  'nother  question,)— she  kep'  the 
path  t'l  she  got  t'  these  two  roads,  an'  then  question  is, 
which  way  ?     She'd  take  some  way  certin.     I  guess  ye'll 
think  we  might  's  well  try  t'  hear  'em  'lectioneerin'  'r 
talkin'  politics  'n  the  moon,  's  try  t'  guess  what  was  in  her 
mind ;  but  look  a'  here,  now  ;  s'posin'  she'd  heard  o'  the 
old  gentleman's  goin  downtt'  Bay  Harbor ;  she  might 
want  to  go  after  him ;  but  then,  here's  this  story  o'.  Jesse 
Hill~'f  that's  his  name.     He  saw  her,  accordin'  to  his 
storj',  (f  r,  I  take  it,  th'r'  ain't  'ny  reas'nable  doubt  b't 
Hwas  the  gal  he  saw,)  where  she  must  ha'  ben  on  t'other 
path.     Now  I  understand  gals  sometimes  take  a  notion  t' 
care  Hr  other  folks  b'sides  their  fathers  ;  't  seems  to  ha' 
ben  the  way  with  'em,  by  all  accounts— f'm  Grandm'ther 
Eve,  's  fur  's  I  know.     I  don't  say  how  'twas  in  this  case, 
but  she  must  ha'  ben  a  takin'  piece  herself,  b'  all  accounts 
—an'  then,  if  the'  wasW^'n^  'fa  runnin'  idea  'f  soraeb'dy 
'n  her  mind,  why,  somehow  'r  other,  she'd  be  very  apt*  to 
folia  that  idea.      She  didn't  show  any  sensitive  feelins, 
did  she?" 

"  I  don'  rightly  understand  'ee,  sir,"  said  the  father,  "  I 
ben't  a  larn'd  man  'ee  know." 

"  Sh'  didn't  feel  'ny  tender  'motions,  I  s'pose  ?     That 

M,  she  hadn't  taken  a  notion  to  one  more'n  another  ? 

young  man  I  mean,  livin'  somew'e's  round  ?/' 

The  father  answered  gravely,  but  with  the  same  hearty 
readiness  as  before — 

"  I  know  a  father  can't,  mubbe,  feel  proper  sure,  al- 
w'y9— to  say  sure— of  his  darter's  heart ;  but  so  fur  as  a 
man  can  be  sartain,  I'm  sarten  sure  my  Lucy  would 
never  have  agrowed  to  e'er  a  body,  knowunly,  athout  my 
knowun  it,  as  well.  There  was  a  neighbor's  son,  surely 
_  -^inotJi  youBg  Mft  Ui%tou  ^ire  spoke  aborrt^^niiibbe  there 


A  NEW  MAN. 


119 


-■.,.', 


might  have  somethun'  come  out  o'  that;  but  they'm  Ro- 
mans, and  my  poor,  dear  maid  loved  her  Savior  to6  much 
to  hear  to  e  er  a  Roman.  She'U  foUy  her  own  chunjh, 
hank  God,  while  she's  livin',  or  ef  she's  dead,  as  is  mo, 

an  mot!"  """  '"  "°"'  *"  ""S""  *«'  ""'^  "«"«' 

"No  more  she  wonl-.  Skipper  George,  that's  a  clear 
case,"  said  Zebedee  Marchant. 

"  Wall,  on'y  jest  started  proposition ;  'hope  's  no^harm 

done.     Ye  th,nk  the'  wa'n't  forbid  to  keep  company,  do 

yo?    Wall;  on'y  'ftwas  my  gaU,  (but  the'  ain't  'nyift., 

W,  yet,  I  guess,-but  if  'twas,-)  should  be  wiUin'  f 

it  a  fourp  ns  hap'ny_('t's  a  coin  ye  hain't  got  't's  equal 

> 'T™,)>,  '  \r'^  """  "'  """"'^'  •'''  '<■  bettin's  t'  settle 
.t,  should  be  w.Ilm'  to  bet)-they  know  som'th'n  'bout  her 
>  that  lamWy.     R„ther  think  the  folks  '„  that  house,- 
(called  m  there,  a  minit,  an'  as'd  fr  a  drink  o'  wa  er, 
»cem  the  was  a  light  burtjn^  didn't  see  anythin  out  o^ 
I.  way.  p  t,e'lar,  te,)-ruthS<guess,  'f  they  wer^  put  to't, 
■cy  ye  seen  or  heard  of  her,  one  o'  th'  two.     Ye  see, 
tl.e.e s  that  punt,  's  ye  call  it,  't  the  cap'n  the  brig,  the.^ 
«iw  th  th  nuns,  or  what  not,  in't ;  (fl«,t,  I  saw  'em  m'sel« 
-that  .3,  I  saw  one  great  black  one,  'n'  a  couple  'f  other 
women,  -here   there  was  great   sensation  among  the- 
hcmcrs,     "  w'n  I's  peekin'  round  the  house,  to  see  what's 
f?«m  on ,)  should  like,  pleggily,  to  know  what  the  nuns 
"'■"•  up  to,  'th  their  punt,  an'  what  'twas  they  kerned 

i  ""TTwu."- ''""''''  ^°"''  *  ''"""•  "'»  P'W  strange 
'l'""Ki. !    Wh',  anybody  ',  had  got  the  feclin's  'f^  man, 'd 

go  on  h.s  hands  'n  knees  round  all  outdoors— wall,  he'd  go 

•^  |KK>(y  long  chalk,  any  way-Pr  a  neighb'r  '„  distress.'' 

'J2"J  "'•■U-'^tonJsja  good  lad,''  .aid  th»  fathw, 

an    thft  tnmilv  oSr.'*  «  U-j  /•  __M  /..,._  * 


an  the  family  ain't  a  bad  family,  ef  they  be  Romans." 


3fli*e;;^ii:'^^£H'ate'- „  _ 


120 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


"  Wall,  I've  said  'bout  all  I've  got  t*  say,  p'ty  much. 
Ye're  welcome  to  it  f '  what  't's  worth.  'Find  th'  ain?t 
goin'  to  be  much  to  do,  'n  the  way  o'  business,  t'U  they 
come  back  f 'm  Labrador,  'thout  I  take  to  lecturin'  a  spell, 
— (got  'n  exhibition  o'  dissolvin'  views ;  used  to  charge 
one  an'  six,  Yankee  money;  m't  make  it  a  shillin',  cur- 
rency, here ;  but) — 'f  the's  anythin'  goin'  on,  while  I've 
got  spare  time,  here's  one  man  ready." 

"  Thank'ee,  kindly,  sir,"  said  Skipper  George.  "  I'm 
sure,  it's  very  good  of  *ee  to  take  so  much  consam  wi' 
strangers." 

"  Wall,  'don't  feel*8  though  folks  ware  strangers,  when 
they're  in  trouble.  B't  't's  'bout  time  f '  me  to  be  trav'Uin', 
I  guess,"  concluded  Mr.  Bangs,  who  had  taken  up  his 
hat,  and  made  a  start  out  of  the  way  of  thanks.  "  Po'no 
'xac'ly  customs  here,  ye  know ; — I'k  a  fish  out  o'  water, 
ye  may  say.  Make  my  compliments  t'  th'  Parson,  's  ye 
call  him,  'f  't's  ruleable,  'n'  tell  him  'promised  t'  put  up 
*th  s'm  folks  'long  down  the  harbor.  Wish  ye  good-night, 
aU!" 

So  saying, — the  gathering  of  neighbors-  in  the  room 
opening  and  letting  him  through,^e  went  out  into  the 
open  air  and  the  morning  twilight,  and  walked  away  with 
short,  quick  steps,  swinging  one  arm. 

"  Well ! "  said  the  constable,  releasing  his  long  attention 
in  a  deep  breath,  "  there's  a  fellow  that'll  git  under  way 
without  waitun  for  tide  to  float  un  off,  any  how ; "  and, 
with  this  remark,  the  constable,  also,  went  hastily  forth. 


^ 


'■t 


-5* 


TRACES  OF  THE  LOST. 


121 


jP' 


CHAPTER  XV. 


TRACES    OF  THE  LOST. 

ITHIN  the  half  hour  that  he  had  mentioned, 
the  Minister  had  got  back  from  his  own  house, 
and  the  constable  joined  hip  near  Skipper 
Georges  dhor..  It  was  a  duU,  dreaiy-looking  hour^ 
day,  so  thick  that  the  Minister  and  his  companion  soon 
hid  themselves  "multo  nebulro  circum  amictu."* 

"Jesse  Barbury  will  jojn  us  presently,"  said  the  Minis- 
ter,  as  they  crossed  the  ridge.  « I  wish  to  follow  out  his 
8tory,  If  nothing  comes  of  it,  even.  We'll  keep  down  the 
path  and  he  can't  miss  us,  though  the  light  is  long  com- 
ing,  this  cloudy  morning.  We  can  wait  a  little  for  him  at 
the  rock,  there.  I  should  like  to  hear  something  more 
about  her  sickness." 

The  earth  and  its  growth  were  wet,  and  hung  with 
drops,  but  it  was  not  raining  now.  The  early  morning 
air  was  chilly  and  thick,  and  nothing  at  a  little  distance 
could  be  seen.  While  Gilpin  was  telling  the  story  of  the 
maiden's  fever,  of  which  the  reader  knows  more  than  the 
constable  told,  the  light  of  day  gradually  spread  itself;  at 
first  exposing  the  mist,  and  afterwards  driving  it  away.      . 


,,..,, 


1^ 


THE  NEW   PRIEST. 


In  the  little  time  that  they  were  standing,  a  short,  sharp 
fall  of  rain  came  down  upon  them,  and  then  the  clouds 
began  to  break.  The  light  fast  opened  the  whole  land- 
scape of  the  neighborhood  in  which  the  sad  and  mysteri- 
ous event  had  taken  place.  ^ 

"  It's  clearing  off  finely,"  said  the  Minister,  with  a  hope- 
ful tone  of  augury. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  constable,  with  little  pound  of  the 
same  feeling  in  his  answer. 

"That's  a  queet,  chap,  that  Yankee  that  was  in  th'e 
kitchen,  sir,"  he  resumed,  after  a  pause ;  "  and  he's  got 
«ome  pretty  'cute  notions,  too.  He  says  she's  gone  off  to 
the  Urstons' -honse  in  a  fit  o'  craziness.  You  know  it's 
said,  sir,  thep  was  something  between  the  young  people ; 
however  he  found  it  out." 

"  Most  likely  she  has  gone  out  in  one  of  those  fits," 
said  Mr.  Wellon ;  «  but  Jesse  Hill's  the  point  that  we're 

to  begin  at,  I  think ;  I've  sent  for  Jesse ." 

"  And  there  he's  coming  npw,  sir, 'over  the  gool'-bushes 
yonder.  I  see  his  great  fur  cap,  and  his  great  red  whis- 
kers under  it,  like  a  forge-fire." 

"  We'll  find  out  about  this  sight  of  his  first,,  if  we  can,". 
said  thb  Minister.     "  By  the  way,  ^e  forgot  to  take  the 
dog !  "  added  he,  suddenly. 

"No,  sir,  he  came  along.  There  he  is,  sir,  nosing 
about  yonder.  We've  had  a  dozen  of  'em  out,  an4  he 
too  ; — Susan  brought  un." 

"  We'll  give  him  another  chance  to-day,"  said  his  mas- 
ter; "but  this  rain  isnk  much  in  his  favor,  or  ours 
either."  v 

"Jesse  Barbury,  or  Jesse  Hill>  came  uf,  conspicuous 
for  red  whiskers  and  freckles,  but  looking  honestly  sad. 
"Samat,  wl"  j«^«tM-te  the  Mintlter,  Tiftihg  his  hafv" 


\ 


v^ 


TRACES  OF  THE  LOST.  123 

and  in  a  lower  and  more  familiar  voice  to  the  constable, 

Hope  ee're  hearty,  Mister  Gulpin." 

"  We're  going  down  the  Backside,  Jesse.  WiU  you 
go  along  and  see  if  we  can  make  out  whereabout  tha" 
white  thmg  waa  when  you  saw  it  ?  " 

"  Sartin,  sir,"  said  Jesse  Hill,  falling  i„to  the  rear  whUe 
they  took  the  path  thn>ugh  the  bushes,  as  a  boat  in  tow 
might  fall  asteni. 

gh    down  between  them  and  the  shore,  the  Mini* 
keeping  his  eyes  toward  the  water,  inquired  of  Jesse 

iir:fte^!::r""™'^^-^«-»--^ 

.inl'l'l'"  '"r  •'"''"' ^Phatical'y-  by  way  of  ezclama- 
Uon,not  9ues, on,  and  evidently  glad  to  be  opened,  "ef 
ee  ,>ia,e  to  bnng  yon  var  (fir)  on  wi'  the  ,™J  at  .other 
side,  s,r,  up  over,  we  was  about  a  fourth  part  o'  the  w-y 
afero^t,  s,r  j  and  I^ik  Maffen,  that  was  along '• 

«k  d  the  M,n,8.er,  cutting  gently  off  the  tail  of  Jes«, 

nill  s  discourse. 

"  It  corned  right  out  of  a  big  bush,  8eemuniy,"8ir,-to 
my  secmun,  sir,  and  Izik  Maffen .» 

''Would  you  know  the  Uush  if  you  coufd  see  it?" 
Mubbe  I  mought,  sir.     I  can'  be  rightly  sure,  sir-^ 
to  »ay  sure,  sir."    -  *     ^         '   * 

;  What  color  was  it,  Jesse  ?     Was  it  yeUow,  or  re^  ?  " 
asked  the  constable.  j         ,       ^^t 

"    Wall,  Mr.  Gulpin,  it  was  dark  lookun ;  I  oouldn'  say 

gezacly,>ut  'twas  dark-lookun  ;  and  Iz ." 

"  That's  pretty  well,  Jesse  ;  you  kept  aU  the  wits  you 
^^,ifyoudidgetfr^^^^ 


y 


124 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


The  fisherman  surveyed  the  whole  surrounding  scenery 
with  an  eye  that  from  infancy,  almost,  had  learned  to  note 
landmarks ;  and  here  were  plenty  of  bushes  to  choose 
from, — a  wilderness  of  them, — but  he  recognized  none. 
Here  and  there,  at  a  distance,  were  still  scattered  a  few 
persons  who  seemed  to  be  searching. 

"  Ef  I  was  down  at  tother  side  o'  they  bushes,"  he 
began. 

"  Surely,  Jesse,  that's  only  reasonable ;  you're  a  better 
sailor  than  I  be." 

",Ay,  Jesse,"  said  the  Minister,  who  had  been  looking 
with  eager  but  sad  eyes  over  the  waste ;  "  get  down 
somewhere  where  you  am  see  it  as  you  saw  it  before. 
That's  Mistpr  Urston's  house  over  there  r*" 

"  Is,  sure,  sir  ;  that's  'e's  house,  sir,"  answered  Jesse. 

"  There's  that  new  Popish  priest,  talking  with  Skipper 
George ! "  said  Gilpin  ;  and  as  the  Minister  turned,  he 
saw  the  companion  of  his  walk  of  a  few  days  before, 
standing  uncovered,  (perhaps  out  of  respect  to  the  bare 
head  of  the  sorrowing  father,)  and  so  engaged  as  not  to 
see  Mr.  Wellon  and  his  party. 

"  Yes,  that  was  he  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Wellon. 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  that's  just  their  way  of  going  on,"  said 
the  constable. 

"  He  won't  lead  George  Barbury  astray,"  said  the 
Minister,  giving  a  long  look,  however, *in  that  direction.  . 

"'Deed,  'e  wou'n't,  then,"  said  Jesse  Hill;  and  the 
party  again  set  forward,  Mr.  Wellon  last. 

"  Thisam's  the  path  from  Uncle  Georgie's  w'y,"  said 
Jesse,  as  they  struck  it  Having  gone  down  some  dis- 
tance upon  it,  Jesse  said  : — 

"  Woul'  'ee  be  so  well  plased  as  bide  here  a  spurt,  sir  ? 
tffi^  mH»m«  bade  to  'ce^  iff  ifaort." 


rt  ry~'^t  --'•'■■  ■Tff-TOf^^ 


,.r 


TRACES  OF  THE  LOST.  125 

•  Behind  them  just  at  a  turn  of  the  way,  was  a  large 
bush.  Je.se  walked  down  the  path,  noting  the  bearings 
on  each,  side,  and  turning  round  onee,  he  soon  came  to 
a  stand. 

"  Plase  to  fall  astarn  a  bit,  Mr.  Gulpin,"  he  called  out; 
and  tiie  constable-smith  did  as  directed. 

Suddenly  they  were  all  startled  by  the  running  of  one 
of  the  distant  parties  towards  them.  The'  dog  gave  a 
short  bark.  "  There's  Izik,  now,  sir  !  "  said  Jesse,  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  from  where  he  stood. 

"  Have  you  found  any  signs  of  her  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Wel- 
lon,  as  the  new  party  drew  near.    Their  answer  destroyed 
all  hope  from  that  source;  they  had  only  come  to  offer  to 
'  help  the  1  ar^n,  «  seeing  he  seemed  to  be  sarchin',  like." 
"  Well,  Jesse  ! "  said  the  constable. 
"  Avast,  a  bit  I  »  was  Jesse's  answer.     «  So ! "  and  he  - 
came  back  again.  ^ 

"  Thisam's  the  bush,  sir,"'  said  he.  Ef  'ee'U  plase  to 
look,justnsMr.  Gulpin's  a  comun  out  from  behind  un, 
s.r,  jesso  what  I  sid  corned  out,  an'  goed  right  down  here, 
didn't  'em,  Izik  ?  "  . 

The  substance,  who  had  come  to  represent  the  name 
that  hjjd  hitherto  been  so  frequent  on  Jessie's  tongue,  was 
a  gaunt,  iiurd-featured  fellow,  and  why  Jesse  should  have 
been  Ins  leader  and  principal,  (unless  because  he  was  not 
quite  as  ugly,  or  was,  perhaps,  better  off,)  was  hard^o  say. 

J  lie  bush  stood  in,  such  a  way  at  the  turning  of  the 
path,  that  a  short  man  or  a  woman  might,  on  the  other 
J^xle,  have  ^een  hidden  for  a  little  distance  ;  the  ground 
being  tor  a  few  rods  hollow,  and  then  ascejiding  again. 

Izik   ]\Ia<fen,  appealed  to,   looked    dutifully  at  Jesse 

*  or  I'alsloy  .bonnet. 


'.■.* 


Tine   NliW   i'UlKST. 


^ 


"I'm  Huro  V  ilid,  then,  Josso." 

"  We  (.'MX  come  l)ju'k  this  way ;  lot  u,*  ^o  down  to 
whero  wlio  (lisuppcjirod,  if  we  eaa  Had  it,"  said  tlie  Min- 
ister. 

"  Do  'ee  tliiak  has  (he  Parcsoa  got  track  o*  slie?"  said 
one  of  tiie  new  lblloW(>iw,  aside, — a  sileyt,  quiet  man,  who 
generally  kept  himself  baek.  '* 

The  sun,  rising,  as  he  was,  had  found  a  ])laee  between 
tl»e  clouds  (o  look  out  through  upon  the  earth,  and  upon 
the  sad  search  that  these  few  iiwn  were  n»ak1ng,  without 
a  trace  to  guide  them,  and  where  all  had  been  already  ^> 
searched.  The  sea  shone  beibre  him,  and  myriads  of/"? 
i*ain-droj)s  glistened  on  all  sides  ;  the  green  was  fairer 
and  brighter  everywhere  than  usual ;.  but  if  there  could 
have  been  any  possibility  of  tracing,  at  any  time,  foot- 
prints on  the  rough  and  gravelly  path  that  they  were  fol- 
lowing, this  rain  luul  washed  all  slight -prints,  oKjvJiatever 
kind,  away,  had  nnide  its  own  nuirks,  heaped  iiP'its  little 
black  gatherings  of  mould  from  the  bushes  on  the  white 
earth,  and  tilled  all  lesser  hollows  with  water. 

"  Did  it  go  all  the  way  down  here,  Jesse?  "  asked  Mr. 
AVellon. 

"  'Is,  sir,"  answered  Jesse  Hill ;  "  sometimes  we  sid  it, 
an'  more  times  agin  we  diiln'  see  it ;  but  it  goed  like  a 
white  sail,  in  a  nnumer,  sir,  passin'  by  the  grecMi  bushes ; 
it  didn'  walk,  seemunly,  to  my  seennni  ;  and  Izik  Matlcii, 
that  was  along  wi'  I, ." 

"  Where  did  you  see  the  last  of  it  ?  " 

"  Down  a  bit,  sir,  by  the  house." 

Mr.  Urston's.  house  stood  along  by  the  bank  or  cliff, 
and  for  some  little  distance  round  it  the  bushes  were 
cleared  off.  The  garden,  inclosed  with  its  >*  picket.s," 
Btretclied4^eibyeti^  towards  the  kitd,  (ov  be>fnd  it,  if  th^ 


^^^-J^CES  OF  THE  LOST.  ig;, 

olhm-  .ide  towm-ds  the  water  wore  counted  front,)  .a 
<lozen  rodv perhaps;  the  house  itseh'  wo.  uni„el6sed! 
HM. ,  ni  our  eounlrj  style,  u  comfbrtaUo  looking  dWell  J 
H...1  .n  ..,o<l  keei>ing.u,,.  Some  firs  and  bther  growth 
vv  .ch  had  got  far  enough  up  the  precipiee  to  stand  a 
imlo  above  us  edge,  would  have  prevented  any  person 
vn;y  near  the  house  from  being  seen  from  the  place  in 
j^  wl.Hh  Jesse  Hill  and  his  comrade  had  been  on  the 
Wilier. 

The  <logs  of  Newfoundland  are  not  unlike  the  dogs  of 
'••I..-;  cmntries  in  their  dealings  with  one  another;  and 
""  ".Irusion  or  near  approach  of  a  stranger  is  a  thing 
|.l>o..(  winch  the  dog  at  home  gets  to  his  feet,  and  put.  up 
his  lad,  and  bristles  his  mane,  and  shows  his  teeth. 

As  ilu.  Mmister  and  his  '  following '  drew  towards  .the 
hous,.  .reat  care  was  taken  to  prevent  a  fight  between 
l"s  dog  and  a  lar^,  brin.llcd  M\<9w  that  lay  growling  on 
<!'<'  <lut  stone  befbre   Mr.  Urston's  door;  anJ  the  fight 
was  pn.vcnted ;  the  proj.er  occupant  of  the  place  being 
1'"  undisturbed  to  his  occupation,  and  the  other  being 
>''A.vhod  off,  with  the  tramp  of  many  shod  feet,  and  ex- 
I'O'tul.onslfrom  several  voices  mingled  with    his   own 
*owar.l  the  cliff  or  steep  bank  (for  the  shore  was  in  one 
Pl'tce  one,  and  in  another  place  the  other)  at  the  water- 
side. 

A  wild  and  picturesque  chasm,  called  the  "  Worrell " 
was  brok(.n  out  of  the  rock  near  the  house,  approached 
on  the  eastern  side  by  a  slope  of  the  land  which  was  con- 
tinued ni  a  ledge  down  the-  face  of  the  landward  wall,  to 
so.ac  broken  mousses  of  rock  at  the  bottom.  A  bit  of 
gniy  beach  lay  among  and  beside  these  rocks  ;  and  while 

the  water  came  freely  in,  and  was  sheltered  entirely  on 
thT«f»ii   oii^rt^,    Tf:::..;:     ::  •     ^r^  r*^    :"  ^  —  —  -^^  j .-- 


tnrce  sifles,  iHcre  was  al«,  a  .jutliiig  out  of  one  of  the 


Lj 


128 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


rocky  walls  in  such  a  way  as  to  throw  a  barrier  half 
across  the  opening,'  and  to  form  a  little  safe  cove  witlj  a 
sand  bottom,  entirely  defended  by  cliffs.  Here  Mr.  Urs- 
ton  kept  several  punts,  and  others  resorted  to  tiie  spot 
for  a  convenient  landing-place.  Small  trees  had  got  a 
foothold  here  and  there  on  the  broken  walls  of  this  hole 
in  the  shore ;  and  near  the  top,  where  soil  had  ][)een 
washed  over,  bushes  were  growing. 

The  fishermen  looked  to  the  Minister  5ji«  he  scanned 
carefully  all  sides,  and  the  rocks  ajid  beach  at  the  bot- 
tom ;  and  they  also  examined  with  their  eyes  the  neigh- 
boring ground,  and  in  a  low  voice  carried  on  their  spec- 
ulations with  each  other. 

"  How  long  did  you  stay  where  you  were  after  the 
white  thing  had  disappeared  ?  "  he  asked,  turning  round 
to  Jesse,  who,  with  Isaac  close  at  hand,  was  waiting  to  be 
called  upon  again. 

"Well  now,  I  couldn'  rightly  say,  Pareson  Wellonj 
how  long  it  was,  sir ;  not  to  say  gezac'ly,  sir ;  but  it  were 
a  short  spurt ;  for  Izik  says  to  I,  ses  he, ." 

The  actual  Isaac  seemed  not  to  have  supplanted  the 
historical  one,  whom  Jesse  had  so  frequently  introduced  ; 
but  JeSse  had  no  touch  of  any  thing  but  solemn  sericras- 
ness  in  his  way  of  telling  what  he  knew. 

"  Did  you  keep  on  looking,"  asked  the  Minister. 

"  'Is  sir,  'deed  we  did,  sir ;  we  kep'  lookin'  so  str'ight 
as  a  needle  pointin',  in  a  manner,  sir ; — but  we  never  sid 
nothin'  after  that, — no  more,  sir," 

"No  more  we  didn',  sure  enough,"  affirmed  his  faithful 
Isaac,  solemnly. 

"  I  can  tell  'ee  now,  sir,"  said  Jesse,  who  had  recol- 
lected himself;  "we'd  jest  asid  a  punt  comin'  round 
CastlerBay  Point,  whea  we  first  ceteh  sight  o'  thiaam' 


« 


w 


TRACES   OF   THE   LOST. 


129 


white  thing.      Quick  m  ever   I   sid  the  punt,  I  sea  to 

Iziii,  I  says "  ' 

"And  when  you  came  away,  where  was  the  punt, 

Jesse  ?  "  . 

"When  we  corned  kw'y,  sir,  they  was  about  a  half 
w'ys  up  to  we  sir,  wi'  oars  an'  winO,  doin'  their  best ;  an' 
I  sid  it  was  Nahthan         "  •' 

"  How  long  would  that  take  them?  " 

"  Could  n'  'ave  abin  le^than  five  minutes,  sir ;  that's 
a  sure  case."  ,  \  ,      ' 

Isaa^^s^g^^^ppealed  to  by  \a  look  of  the  speaker,  and 
affirmed  the  statement.        J/ 

"  That's  a  sure  case,  Jesse,"  said  he. 

"  And  you  watched,  all  that  time  ?  " 

"'Is,  sir,  we  did,  sir;  an'  a  long  time  arter  that;  so 
long  as  ever  we  could  see  the  place,  while  we  was  rowina 
aw'y."  • 

"  Was  it  getting  dark  ?  " 

"  No,  Pareson,  it  wasn'  gettun  dark  ;  the  sun  had  jest 
aknocked  off.  It  mought  be  a'  twilight,  sir.  We  was 
jes  comun  home,  however,  sir,  an'  I  ses " 

A  sudden  noisy  altercation  of  the  dogs  diverted  for  the 
moment  all  attention  toward  the  hoiise.  Mr.  Urston's 
"  Ducker  "  had  come  out  to  the  path,  and  it  had  needed 
but  a  moment  to  embroil  him  with  the  stranger. 

"  Mr.  Gilpin  !  "  Exclaimed  the  Minister,  at  this  alarm.. 

"  'E  isn'  'ere,  sir,"  answered  one  of  the  company ;  but  at 
the  moment  the  constable  appeared  at  the  comer  of  the 
house,  and  set  himself,  understandingly,  to  the  work  of 
keeping  the  noisy  debaters  asunder. 

Immediately  behind  appeared  a  woman  of  about  sixty 
years,  announced  among  Mr.  Wellon's  company  as '  Grannj 
Cailomn ' !  whom  we  have  called  young  Urston's  nurse. 

VOL.  I.  9 


180 


TTIK  NKW   PIURST. 


ii^r 


I  T 


She  wiiH  ono  orilH»st>  wointMi  in  whom  tho  pitjcosi*  of  dry- 
ing ttwuy  with  ngt»  setMUs  to  h»Hvo  lh<»  csscuoo  of  will  and 
energy,  (M>iu<«»iitrattMl,  iilhM*  tlio  iiuiniuu'  of  u  olioinioul 
evu|H)mtion.  II»m'  roulnnvs,  t<M\' hud  tliut  oxprossion  of 
smiuiiiig  out,  that  boflts  mA\  w  I'haractor. 

Without  notioing  (Jilpii^wh*)  luut  tho  MinisttM-'s dog  by 
tho  tKtllar,  idio  wi  htM-solf  dirootly  in  fixait  of  tho  olhor, 
putting  hor  ftpix)n  over  his  fart*.  At  tho  sanu*  tinio,  witii 
a  brisk  blow  of  ibo  fiwt,  ,sho  sont  what  had,  vory  likt^ly, 
hmw  tX\e  objoct  of  t«ontcnti(»n  info  tiu^  opon  holt^  of  tl»e 
dog'jt  koniiel,  undor  tho  wnuM-  of  tlu»  liouso,  noar  which 
Gilpin  »{iMM\.  Tho  ronstablo,  its  suddenly  *»natcho(i  it 
out« 

"It's  a  bm^  ould  book,  that'."*  atlhor  bein*^  burnt,"  said 
Mrs.  OvUomn,'who  saw  tho  jnotit)n,  holding  out  hor  Imnd 
for  the  bUu'kontui  and  shriveUtHi  mass,  whioh  hat!  boon, 
inor<M>vor,  disHgurt»d  by  llu>  tooth  of  A»  dog. 

"»Te»!»o,  lay  hohl  «»'  \^h  dog,  a  bitjpill  '«»o?"  said  Cil- 
pln,  Aj<  tho  mon  dtxnv  up;  and  fi>ur  hands  wortv  immo- 
di*toly  Uiid  upon  Kppy.  and  a  ftir  onp  and  a  wwllon  l>onnot 
met  together  in  tlio  opomtion. 

*^ItVgnt  pretty  g<H>d  stuff  in  it,  for  a  bml  lH>ok,"  pro- 
ceedwi  the  constable,  as  he  earefuUy  disengagtvi  some  of  • 
the  leaver  fVom  their  sticking  together.    "  Hert»'s  prayers, 
for  one  thing." 

"Ahl  thin,  it's  me  darter's  prayoMxxik  she  wjw 
lookin'  for,  this  while  Ivack.  an*  niver  gt>t  a  sight  of  it, 
good  or  hhd,'*  said  -Mrs.  Callornn  ;  "  an*  I'm  thankful  to 
ye  for  flndin*  it  this  dar." 

She  again  held  out  her  hand  for  it ;  but  the  tii»der 
•e«i»ed  in  no  hurry  to  jvart  with  it. 

"You  may  thank  the  dogs  for  that,"  said  he,  continu^^ 
log  ha  «HiiffiiB6nT^nn  an  ^nPsT^  Fray^r^Bookran^^ 


T*7  •Sr' 


-^^. 


TKACK8  OF  THE  LOST* 


18] 


l>ow.     Tho  ono   it  bolong^d  to  isn't  vory  near  to  you.  I 
don't  think."  ,  ^  /     » 

ft 

"  An',  sure,  isn't  nil  our  pniyor-booics  English  ?  D'ye 
flunk,  do  w,!  pmy  in  Hcbrow-Groek  ?"  rctorto9  Mrs. 
Ciillonm,  g(»tling  wunn  ;  "  ar  what  ?  " 

Sho  attiMupted  to  ro(,ovor  tho  bwk  by  a  sudden  snatch, 
and  mt  (he  tlt)K  tVoo  by  the  smuc  niovonient.  The  one- 
oy.ul  ronstablo  w,w  too  quick  fur  her ;  but  the  dog  mut- 
ton-d,  nuschievously. 

M  this  nu)nHMit,uho  sound  of  horse-hoofs  upon  the 
slony  ^Mt.und  nuide  it,s,.U'  heard,  even  among  men  whose 
Hl(ont.o,^.wa8  oe^.picd  .is  w,i8  that  of.Gilpin  and  his  com- 

paniona;  - 

"Tiu>re's -another  of  'em !"'  muttered  the  constable, 
.^ul,>.--  Th.it's  Father  Niehohus,  tht.y  calls  un.— There's 
nuh.r  Um.  many  of  those  gents  for  my  likin',"  he  con- 
'i>"'"<i,  in  his  aside,  -  'tisn't  «Mght  o'clock,  yot ;  two  of  'em, 
Ml  (wo  or  (hre(>  jmurs,  don't  mean  any  good,  I'll  go  bail." 

ri.r  horseman  was  coming,  at  a  goml  qu'ck  trot,  along 
Mh'  pa(h  near  the  edge  of  tJ.e  cliff,  fmm  Hhe  direction  of 
(Vsde-Hay. 

Mrs.  C^alloran,  as  if  aware,  by  sight  or  hearing,  of 
this  powerful  ivinforcoment  close  at  lu^nd,  (informed,  per- 
haps, by  (^.ilpin's  i-emarks,)  renewed  her  strength ;  and 
lu'r  fiiciv  g|,.amed  wi(h  satisfaction,  even  in  the  midst  of 
i(s  l(>oks  of  vexation.     She  s,»cured  the  dog,  however. 

Wiiile  this  animal  was  working  himself  up  to  a  rage, 
"»d  the  other,  also,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  fishermen,  ' 
ans weird  gmwl  for  gix>wl,  young  Mr.  Urston  appeared; 
and  changi'd  the  state  of  things.  With  his  voice  and  his 
foot,  \w  speedily  persuaded  Ducker  to  go  inside  of  the 
b""A<'i  aiMJ  leuve  tho  fluid  4a other  m-bitratorsp 


'  I'll  talk  with  Mr.  Gilpin,  Gnumy,"  said  he. 


"<;j^ 


132 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


«An'  can't  I  do  that,  meself?"  asked  she.  "Well, 
thin,  Mr.  Gilpin,  (an'  Mr.  Galpin  I  believe  it  is,  indeed,) 
let's  have  no  words  upon  it  (an'  yerself  a  man  that's  set 
over  the  peace)  ;  but  will  ye  give  me  the  book,  quite  an' 
paceable,  that  ye  tuk  from  this  house  ?  an'  meself  '11 
lave  ye  to  yer  company :  an'  there's  enough  o'  thim  that 
ye  wouldn't  feel  lonely,  walkin'  away  from  this,  I'm 
thinkin'." 

"-  If  Mr.  Urston  will  look  here  a  minute,  (I  suppose  he 
won't  be  afraid  of  a  Protestant  book,)  I'll  show  him,  in  a 
jiffey,"  answered  the  constable.  "  There  !  "  said  he,  as 
the  young  man  followed  his  invitation.  "  I'm  sure  if  that 
isn't  Church,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  isn't  Church. 

*  Articles  agreed  upon  by  the  Archbishops  and  Bishops  of 
both  Provinces,  and  the  whole   Clergy:' — and   there's 

*  Articles  of  the  Church  of  England.'     Does  that  book 
belong  here  ?  "  • 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  James  Urston,  "  it's  not  your  book. 
Granny,  and  it  does  not  belong  to  any  one  here." 

"There    seems    to   be    some   little   misunderstanding 
between  you  and  your  excellent  neighbors,"  said  a  new 
voice,  -very  blandly  ;  and  the  priest,  whom  Gilpin  had 
call6d  Father  Nicholas,  appeared,  on  foot,  near  the  house. 
He  was  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life,  arid  of  an  appearance 
that  would  strike  even  a  rude  man,  at  first  glance.     His 
eyes  were  deep-set  and  dark,  with  a  high  forehead,  firm, 
sharp  lips,  and  a  complexion  like  slightly-yellowed  ivory, 
contrasting  strongly  with  hi^  black  hair.     There  was  a 
settled  look   of  authority  about  him  ;  and  he  had   the 
reputation  of  being-ono  whose  influence  was  not  less  that 
of  a  man  of  superior  mind,  than  one  who  bore  a  sacred 
office.     Almost  less  was  popularly  known  or  reported 
^bootthTH-^Bntteffiftrt^  oratory,  tfiariliBbu^^^^^^ 


% 


TEACES  OF  THE  LOST.  jjg 

new  pries,  who  had  come  to  Peterport;  although  Father 
N,d.ola.  had  been  two  year,  and  more  in  the  neightol 
hood,— and  the  other,  two  weeks. 

His  appearance  disconcerted  and  drove  into  temnorarv 
retreat  behind  the  picket-fence  one  of  the  Peter^rSZ 

jt^a^d  r        T'"'"""'"""""')  n..he'abashed 
Jesse  and  Isaac,  who  were  holding  the  dog,  and  even 

s^ht^  startled  Mister  Charles  Gilpin,  smith'Ind  cons^ 
ble    but  men  s  mmds  were  serious  and  saddened,  and  not 
^elyu.y.eld  to  passing  emotions  , -Gilpin's  bl«Kl  Z 
warmed    and  that  of  his  foUowet.  was  ready  to  back 
Inm:  and  so,  w.th  the  second  breath,  religious  antipathy 
^ve  them  a  vety  determined  manner,  aid  the  eyTof 
the,r  eader  took  a  new  brightness.    The  Minister,  before 
the  altercation  began,  had  gone  down  i„to.^he  Worrell 
(the  chasm  before-described,)  and  had  not  c^  up 

The  pnest  having  given  the  different  parties  time  to 
compose  themselves,  spoke  again  -^ 
»     "Perhaps  your  neighbors  will  excuse  you,  Mrs.  Callo- 
ran     James,  will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  come  in  ?  - 

If  you  please,  sir,  we'll  understand  about  Ibis  book" 
«..   Gdpm.  "  He  belonged  to  a  friend  o'  mine,  and  if  Mr; 
Calloran  wants  to  claim  u„,  she  knows  where  to  come, 
and  f  shell  prove  her  property,  she  shall  have  un.     It's 
worth  more  now  than  ever  it  cost." 

vl^^Z-  ?"."  ^  '""^  "''"^'''  ^"-  Calloran,"  said 
Father  Nicholas.     "You'd  best  drop  the  thing  wher« 

"  Lave  Skipper  Charlie  alone  for  talk,"  said  one  to  an- 
0  her  of  the  constable's  followers,  naturally  feeling  not  a 
h  fc  proud  at  his  force  of  tongue.  The  constoble  him- 
sui  8ud()eiil;L,m,k  nnoihcr  subiuct. 


J'" 


"Mrs.  Calloran,"  said  he,  "did  you  see  Mr.  Barburr-. 
daughter  smce  yesterday  morning  ?  » 


'^■**a."t,''-A:.-*i^-^'-^'^'^r-^*'^ 


134 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


^ 


"Misther  Barbury*8  darterJ  an'  did  I  see  her?  Do 
ye  tlikik  is  it  visitin'  her  I  was,  that  wasn't  jn  it  or  nigh  it, 
those  many  years.!  How  would  I  be  se^eun  Misther  Bar- 
bury's  darter  ?  There's  other  ould  women  in  Peterport, 
I'm  thinkin'."  . 

-  "Ay!  but  did  you  see  her?"  repealed  the  constable, 
holding  on  like  a  mastiff  %■' 

"An'  sure,"  answered  the  woman,  "  wouldn't  wan  an- 
swer do  ye  ?     An'  what  for  must  ye  be  aflher  comun, 
^that  has  no  call  to  it,  an'  the  father  himself  beun  here 
last  evenun  ?  " 

"  But  you  might  answer  a  plain  question,  and  a  short 
one,  with  a  plain,  short  answer,  I  think,"  persisted  the 
constable.         , 

"  Sure  is  this  the  place  to  come  askun  for  Lucy  By- 
bury  ?  An'  isn't  her  father's  house  the  fit  place,  to  look 
for  her,  besides  axun  meself,  when  it's  sorrow  a  sight  I 
seen  of  her  in, years,  I  suppose  ?  What  would  I  do  wid 
Lucy  Barbury  ?" 

"  I  can't  make  you  answer,  if  you  wor\'t  answer  of  your 
own  accord  ;  but  there's  some  that  can;*  said  the  con- 
stable. 

"An'  didn't  ye  hear  me  sayun  I  didn't  know  if  I  seen 
her  in  years  ?  I  dono  did  I  or  no,"  answered  the  uncon- 
querable vfoman. 

"  But  that  isn't  answering  my  question  'Either ;  I  asked 
if  you'd  seen  her  since  yesterday  morning,"  persisted 
Skippef  Charlie. 

Young  Urston  seemed  rather  inclined  to  have  this  ex- 
amination go  on  than  to  interrupt  it.  The  Priest,  hew- 
ever,  mediated. 

"  Mrs.  Calloran  will  doubtless  be  willing  to  answer  any 
~reBSOBaCTr-questron,'^8aia  he.   "  iTuppose  you  havelome 


•  rz  >f-i  '"!r^i:^''^R^p^>*f^?R3^T^r^'" 


-'  I 


TRACES   OP  THE   LOST. 


0 


135 


good  reason  for  asking.  You  wish  to  know  whether  she 
saw  this  young  p^son,  or  old  person,  whichever  it  is, 
perffsT"      ^^''^^^  S''  '^^^  "message  fix,m  her, 

;No,  sir,"  said  GilpinV^r.  Barbur/s  daughter's 
missmg  and  we  want  to  find  h^,  or  find  out  what's  be- 
come  of  her."  ■  V 

"Is  it  left  her  father's  house?    Lre  that's  not  a  very" 
good  storj  of  a  young  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Galloran,  moi^- 

ahzing.  ' 

"Granny r  said  young  Urston,  sternly,  "you'U  please 
not  to  speak  disrespectfully." 

-  If  it's  lost  she  is,  thin  may  God  find  her  1 "  said,  she 
more  softly.  '  ' 

Priest ; 


wiH 


Of^  course  it  will  be  cleared  up,"  said  the  Pri 
there  s  some  explanation  of  it ;  and  itnly  hope  it  wm 
come  out  happily  for  all.     You  can  say  whether  you 
know  where  she  is,  or  any  thing  about  her,  Mrs.  CaUomn, 
and  you  needn't  keep  your  neighbors,  Waiting." 

"Sure  thin,  yer  riverence.  Father  Nicholas,"  said  Mrs. 
Galloran  "it's  not  meself  asked  thim  to  wait;  but  if  it's 
where  sj.ucy  Barbury^indadel  dono,  more  than  I  know 
where  the  mjens  is." 

"Now,  Mr.  Constable,  I  shall  be  glad  if  you're  satisfied,' 
as  I  m  pressed  for  time  ;  but  I  won't  hurry  yoti."         * 

"I  haven't  got  any  thing  more  to  ask  just  now,  sir," 
said  the  constable.  .  ' 

"  Then  I'll  wish  you  good  morning,"  said  the  priest, 
and  went  into  the  house,  followed  hy  Mr..  Galloran. 
liefore  gonig  in  after  thtfm  Mr.  Urston  said,— 
"Sh,.  nursed  me  as  early  as  I  can  remember,  almost; 

nnn    ft   irana     T _  .  •         •....   .       ..  -    , 


a  trace,  I  say,  go  on  !     I'll  build  it  again." 


136 


THE  iJEW  i'JilEST. 


,    CHAPTER  XVI. 


SEARCHING   STILL. 


»> 


S  the  constable  aftd  his  company  drew  near  the 
"  Worrell,"  whither  Epicteius,  the  Minister's  dog, 
had  gone  •  immediately  on  finding  kimself  at 
hirge,  Mr.  W^llon  and  the  man  whom  he  had  taken  down 
with  him  were  coming  up.. 

"Here's  something  that  may  have  been  her's,"  said 
the  Minister,  turning  to  his  companioH,  who  held  up  a 
plain  wiiite.  cap,  which  all  ci^\vded  about  and  looked 
upon,  in  sacred  silence.  ,  ' 

It  was  marked  with  red  thread,  already  faded,  "  L.  B 

Jesse  had  un<jovered  his  honest  red  locks  before*  it, 
and  more  than  one  of  ^his  comrades  put  the  back  of  his 
hand  to  his  eyes.  , 

Presently  the  general  voice  said  sadly,  "  That's  Lucy's, 
and  no  mistake."  "       '      ' 

"  It  was  part  of  that- figure  tl^^t  Jesse  and  Isaac  saw, 
I  think,"  said  the  Minister,  in  the  same  tone. 
,    "  Do  'ee  think  'twould  wear  ^  real  cap,  sir  ? "  asked 
Jesse,  who  doubtless  looked  upon  what  he  had  seen,  on 
the  evening  befo^-e,  as  a  preternatural -sight. 

"  I  think  it  was  her  real  self,"  answered  Mr.  Wellon, 

looking  wistfully  upon  the  path,  which  seemed  to  have 

"btjtm^  the  patn  of  death,  or^  strange  disaster,  ta  liio  ^px\ 


^L!t^^. 


.-.  v-t« 


SEARCHING  STILL.  jg^ 

J  Where    did  you   find- it,   sir?"  inquired   the  con- 

"At  the  bottom  of  the  Worrell,   on   the  sand  under 
.  one  0  the  punta  that  Zebedee  turned  over.     It  „ay  have 
flowed  m  on  the  ,ide._I  think  ,ou  told  methatbol 
were  out  along  the  shore  here  and  round  tl,e  point  ^» 

Ay,^sn-,  Cap'n  Nolesworth  and  George  Kames    you 
know  h«  mate,  were  round  Castle-Bay  harbor,  and'some 
arc  down  now,  by  land,  to  Bay-Harbor,  and  U,  Brigu" 
Jonatha*  Frank  one  way,  and  Skipper  Heurv  Bess l' 
to  her  way.     Young  Crston,  here,  w'a^'  out  all  nigh   wF 

:    nTa'        7  '"'"  ''"''  '''""' '"""'  ^"^ '  "»'">- 

Ke  1.V     TT.-l":  "  '™P  '°  "«  ''"""<'  •  «"<>  Solomon 
Kelley  and  JJ^th  Marehant  were  out  till  morning ,  but  I 

ITI::  "^'"  ^«'  --  '-"^  "f  "-.  please  Go'd',  dead 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Wellon,  -if  she's  ali*e,  as  I 
hope,  we  must  hear  from  her;  or  if  she's  lost  i^  the 
Z^'Z  n^^'  ""  ""^  ''oP"  '"  «"">  "or  body. 
iel'K,.  """  ^'  ""-"  ">  -^-^  P'-  "-' 

The  lifeless  relic  that  they  had  reeovered,  heavy  and 
dnpp.ng  w,.h  the  ocean  water,  while  it  b;ught'them 
near  lo  her  m  one  respect,  yet  gave  deep  meaning  to  the 
-ggest,on  that  she  might  have  perished'in  the  slat  Id 
in  this  way  ,t  seemej  to  impress  them  all. 

shoi*' J  7"  ^"  '  '""''  ^^  """  ''>'•  ^'U  eo  round-  the  :. 
T^;,      ,fr, """  '~''  ^^  •""^"S'""  «aid  the  Minister. 

"  .e'nV*     '1'"''  *"  "^^^  "">  '"'  ^"^'"  »»W  •'"sse  HiU, 
we  11  be  proud  to  go  along  wi'  iee,  sir/' 

**  I  >^  i»  3  — — — —  ^«   >«- -■-■■-■:.  ..  . — 


-  o        — ""o     "*    -Av^^^^    oil. 

~   Bccd  we  wofflT^ara-  Isaac  Maffen. 


"% 


.1    •   U       ia.4l£« 


138 


THE  NEW  PRIEST 

if. 


"  You've  been  out  a  good  dtf^^already,  though,"  said 
Mr.  Wellon. 

"  Well,  we  can  afford  a  little  time,  Pareson  Wellon," 
said  Jesse.  "  I  don'  know  who's  got  a  right,  ef  I  haven','' 
and  Isaac  assented^  "All  so,  Jesse." 

"An'  I'll  make  another,  if  'ee  plase,  sir,"  said  Zebedee 
Marchant. 

A  fourth  offered  immediately,  and  the  crew  was  com- 
•  plete.^  This  fourth  was  the  quiet  man  several  times  men- 
tioned. 

"  We'm  got  somethun  to  be  doned  first,  afore  that,  I 
suppose,  sir,"  said  Jesse,  turning  gravely  ^round  toward 
the  wet  cap  which  Zebedee  Marchant  boi-e,  and  wtich,  at 
this  reference,  he  raised  in  silence. 

"  I  think  wfe'd  better  keep  that  until  we  come  back," 
said  Mr.  Wellon,  "  and  then  we  shall  have  something,  at 
least,  if  vf^^i  nothing  more.     Will  you  take  charge  of 

"Whatever  'ee  says,  sir,"  said  Jesse  gravely;  "I'll 
take  'un  ef  'ee  says  so,  sir ; "  and  so  saying,  the  honest 
fisherman,  Skipper  George's  nephew,  spread  a  great  blue 
handkerchief  upon  a  rock,  and  taking  the  cap  from  Zebe-  . 
dee,  placed  it  in  the  handkerchief,  and  carefully  turning 
over  the  corners,  said  : — 

"  Thank  'ee  Zippity  ;  'e'H  be  safe  wi'  me  ;  so  'e  was  wi' 
you,  too."     He  then  carefully  held  it  with  both  hands,  ,     "^ 

"  We'll  take  time  to  /et  sortiething  to  eat,  and  then  be 
off,  as  soon  as  we  can,"  said  Mr.  Wellon. 

The  excited  state  of  Jesse  Barbury's  feelings  may  have 

given  readiness  and  directness  to  his  words,  for  he  said 

immediately,  addressing  his  pastor  : — 

^  "Pareson,  would  'ee  be  so  well-plased  now,  mubbe, 

BJr,  as  comd  an'  take  a  poor  n^nrsel  q'  \fyj  wi'  ua,  ef  I 


:if.     SEAKCHKG -SIIU,. 


m'y  make  boM,    It's  poor  offerun'  -Jib  t„„        i, 
missus -ull  be'dear  proud  "  ^  "'  '""  "^ 

^MuA^nfbrcei  ,he  invitation  in  his  fashion •' 
sa^^_^n.o^..e<i.oicV..Beea  She  wour,  that."; 

Mr.  WelJon  accepted,  at  once,  the  ready  hospitalitv 
and  Jesse,  sayh.g  "  Come  U,e„,  Izik-  ,ed  the'„a;':vtl' 

speakmg.  Sk.pper  Charlie  was  not  among  the  company 
a  the  moment;  the  other  fishermen,  besTdes  Jesse  and 
his  mate,  took  care  of  themselves.  '  . 

The  cap  was  deposited  safely  upon  the  Family  Bible 
toawau  the.r  coming  back  f^m  the  new  expedition fa!^ 
hen  Jesses  wfe,_a  pretty  woman,  6nce  Prudence  F™,k 
from  Irank's  Cove,  (g^  enough  to^ercise  hospiS 

«se  o  the  mitt,    (which  is  quite  a  luxury  among  plantera 
J...™tharbors,)andofthe.c™,../andalf::r:r 

In  a  few  minutes  they  had  finished  their  hurried  meal 
aniwere  shortly  at  the  water-side.  Zebedee  and  the  otr* 
were  already  there. 

They  skirted  the  shore  along  by  Frank's  Cove,  and 
M.U1  Cove,  and  round  Mad  Head  and  Castle-Bay  Point 
JNothing  had  been  seen  or  heard  that  would  throw  li»ht 
u,o„  the  mystery,  and  the  Minister  set^ut  to  go  bik  o„ 

ItTh    ;^"''  ™'  ""'  """^  -""'  '>^ 'he  wit" 
mc  Dest-  ot  their  way  by  water. 

and  rubbish,  and  whited  with  a  line  of  foam,  and,  as  it     ' 
d.anced,  among  the  other  worthless  things  there  lavl 


*XfrQsh  young  fish  broiled. 


140 


THE  ?JEW  PRIEST. 


'■-> 


woman's  shoe  which  Mr.  Wellon  ran  to,  and  snatched 
eagerly,  but  saw  at  a  glance,  was  nothing  to  his  purpose. 
He  threw  it  from  him  into  the  water,  and  his  dog,  exult- 
ing, leaped  in  and  secured  it.  His  search  was  done,  and 
he  went  slowly  home.       ,     .  **       ,_ 

When  at  length  after  waiting  hours,  that  information, 
if  any  wer6  to  come,  might  come,  he  sought  Jesse,  who 
was  the  depositary  of  the  little  thing  recovered  fronl  the 
sea;  the  day— the  last  of  the 'week,— was  drawing  towards 
evening,  and  twenty-four  hours  *ad  passed  since  Lucy's 
strange  and  sad  disappearance. 

"  I  said  I  wouldn'  start  un  tell  'ee  comed,  sir,"  said  Jesse. 

"  'Ee  did  so,  Jesse,"  said  Isaac,  who  was  still  with  him, 
and  without  delay  the  little  procession  set  forth. 

The  .fishermfan  bore  the  relic  reverently  in  his  two 
hands,  and  carefully  and  quickly,  as  if  it  were  an  unsub- 
stantial thing  of  frost,  that  might  be  wasted  by  the  way. 
Near  the  door  of  the  house  of  mournihg,  Jesse  and  Isaac 
drew  aside  and  would  not  go  in,  and  Jesse  gave  the  slight 
memorial  into  the  Parson's  hand,  and  he,  uncovering 
himself,  went  in  alone. 

Skipper  George,  who  sate  silently  in  his  chimney-side, 
with  his  wife  and  little  Janie,  rose  up  and  .took  off  his 
hat  on  seeing  his  pastor ;  the  wife  courteseyed  and  wept. 

The  Minister  put  the  relic  into  his  hand,  without 
speaking. 

"Have'ee— ?  'Is,  sir,— 'Is,  sir,"  said  the  father,  con- 
/usedly,  taking  the  precious  thing,  but  turning  4  over  as 
if  he  could  not  see  it,  for  something  in  his  eyes,  «it's 
her's,  it's  her's.  Ah  !  God's  will  be  done  !  " 
'  Mr.  Wellon  said  nothing  of  the  constjible's  hope  or 
expectation  of  tracing  her. 

The  mothe_r  sobbed  once^  and  wppt  silently,  and  Skip.-- 


/ 


per  George  rallied  himself. 


"^ 


^ 


SEARCHING   STILL.  -,,, 

141 

Anl^ry,'"'  r*?"  '"'''  '"''  «<""hingly,  "this  'II  never 
do  I  There,  there!  take  it  and  put  it  by;  mayhap  the 
dear  ma,d  'U  wear  it  agin,  in  short,  please  God."'    "^ 

1  he  Minister's  eye  was  caught  by  a  lead-pencil-drawing, 
that  lay  on  the  bench.  »"■"& 

1'  J^f''  ^"  ^'""''  «■•."  said  the  father,  sadly. 
I  d>d  n  t  know  she  could  draw,"  answered  the  Minis- 
ter   t  k,„g  ,nto  h,s  hand  the  paper,  blurred  somewhat, 

and  blistered.  ' 

"No  more  did  n'  I,  sir,  it  was  the\st  doun  she  doned; 

went  to  bed      She  must  ha'  lamed  o'  Miss  Dare,  or  the 

widow-lady."  ' 

.  The  Minister  gazed  long  at  it,  and  then  said,_'<I  don't 
know  much  abou,,drawing;  but  I  should  sa;  there  was 
great  alent  here^  I  can't  think  how  she^hould  be  able 
to  do  this  ice. '  ^^- 

"Athout  she  minds  about  the  ice  comun  in,  years  ago, 
when  she  was  a  httle  thing,  about  so  big  as  Janie:" 

Its  wonderful,  really!"   said  the  Minister.     "This 
vessel,  going  off,  and  the  man  left  behind." 

Skipper  George  said,  in  a  low  voice,— 

"Ay,  sir,  that  vessel  never  comed  home  again '  Nor 
no  word  ever  comed  of  her!_Will  'ee  pl^  make  a 
pr'yer,  sir?"  added  the  father.  ^ 

All  kneeled  down  by  the  fireside ;  the  mother  crying  • 

^f  Uh  and  will,  and  little  Janie  holding  fa.t  in  both  hands 
^ome  stones  with  which  she  had  been  at  play 

The  Minister  prayed  for  help  to  find  the  lost  child,  and 
HLl~'^^"^^-^^^^\-^"'-^^learn  meekly 


-— ^ouldTO  be  plased^^^^^ 


^,^  I 


/' 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 

« 

fisWman,  as  his  Pastor  moved  to  go.      «  Well,  sir,  we 
shalKbe  proud  to  see  'ee  again  ;  and— it  comes  heavy  to 
bear;  but  we'll  do  our  best,  wi'  God's  help." 
/     The  sturdy  man  followed  the  Minister  to  the  outside 

of  the  house,  and  then,  lowering  his  voice,  said, ^ 

"I've  abin  to  B'y-Harbor,  sir,  an'  I've  abin  to  Brigus; 
but  there's  nawthun,  sir ! " 

"  By  land  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Wellon. 

"  '^^'  ^'^•^'  an'  put  my  poor  ol'  sorry  face  into  amany,     - 
many  houses— bl»t  they  were  kind,  sir,  they  were  all 
kind,  sir.     They  sid  I  was  heavy  hearted,  an'  they  were 
very  pitiful  over  me." 

"Why,  you've  been  forty  miles!"  said  Mr.  Wellon, 
•rather  to  himself.  "  It  must  be ;  besides  being  out  all 
night.     You  must  take  rest.     It'sM  duty." 

"  'Is,  sir,  an'  to-morrow  's  Sunday,  and  even  when  the 
Lord  was  dead,  they  w'ited  an'  'rested  on  the  Sabbath- 
day,  according  to  commandment,'  afore  ever  they  'd  'balm 
'E's  blessed  body.  There  isn'  e'er  a  thing  to  be  doned 
now,  sir,  that  I  knows,  an'  I  m'y  as  well  rest  bumbye, 
an'  ef  I  can't,  mubbe,  get  sleep  right  aw'y,  I  can  pr'y 
for  un,  however/" 

"And  goo(idays  will  come,  I  hope,  shortly." 
"Ay,  sir,  they  '11  come,"  said  Skipper  George.    «  They 
'11  come  ! "  • 

How  far  ahead  he  looked,  he  gave  no  sign ;  but  he 
spoke  confidently.  . 

"An'  I  know  she'll  find  home,"  heW,  «ef  she  never 
comes  to  this  place  no  more,  sir.  Thm«fe's  others  have 
agot  sore  hearts,  so  well  as  we.  That  good  lady  that's 
loss'd  'er  husband  an'  'er  child,  takes  stren'th,  an'  comforts 
them  that  wants,  an'  I  musn'  give  up." 

Mr.  Welloa^ressed  his  hand  and  teft  him. 


SEARCHING   STILL 

gotw:.:re::i;r ""  ""^^ '™'"  ">-•>  "^ »- '» 

sorrow  of  the  li„ie  ,„„„  g„j  ^1,1  prevailing 

%ing  at  peak  or  truck  "^  ""  '"^"^'^  "'  ""g 

—-Boes  the  sea  hold  the  secret » 

Along  the  wharves,  alon"  the  liltio  l^,.    ., 
circuit  of  the  h'ttle  cove,  afon!  thl  .     ''  "'•'"""'  "■« 

of  rock,  the  ,ea  whw!  f        """°"'  ™  "'■<''"'"  <■»« 

waves  'and  tlM;  J  ,71^''  "  '""'■     '''^'^  «"'« 
I.        1  ^  swell,  that  now  arfe  herp  nt  ,.,^  i 

have  been  ore  now  at  home  in  ,he  grelt  in  and  t' 
Kurope^breathed  on  by  soft  w.!  ^reat  mland  sea  of 
Povcs,  vineyards,  and'w  !' fi^ ,?  J'^  '"""■':'"'■ 
'P-kled  in  the  n,an,.olo„red  "S  and  fc ' .  '"-'T 
oars  and  dallying  flneers  of  ,1,.  I  ,  fi'"^ 'he  trivial 
canals  of  Venice -hJ.        " V .     °"*"''"'''  ""  "^e  long 

-n's  Pipe    tW^oXMl:*:  t^^"?''^  '^"* 
t'-eckschuyt :  have  wroJhn,  ■    ^"   '^""'  ''''«"''>g 

caverns  of  1he  IndianT  ^    T  '"''''"'  '"''''  ■'"  ">«  ^^ 
""le  builders  underwatef  J     ""''^"■"'^■■^"•'^''  ">  "" 

">-  towering  altar;::::.::"::'  ■■"""^■"^"'^  •->  -^ 

"kept  0 ^^rX^r  --^  '"e  ocean,  .„„hU„g 

th.'  Grelt  Wildernesf  ha      T"!  °"  "  ''^'«''  "«'"'*  '"  ' 
countless  numw  ''™''''"''' '"  <='<>■'«  ™nks  and      .; 

^'o™^d  the  :';:;,  r;-;'  --'^-floating  fortress ;  have 

chip's  riven  side    h„      r  ,"'  "P'°™"'  "=<>  "■""'  i"  the 
n...  ,,„,;°  ^  f  •  .'^":i'°"°"'"'>  howling  and  hunr-,  -       . 

°'  '""  ™»"'*<'  ">«'  have  le^i^^  — 


iSi 


■:r^ 


/■ 


i4  A. 


\  ' 
I 
I 


144 


.  THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


snatching  off,  one  by  one,  the  weary,  worn-out  men  and 
women  ;  h?ive  taken  up  and  borne  aloft, — as  if  on  hands 
and  shoulders — the  one  chance  human  body  that  is  brought 
into  land,  and  the  long  spar,  from  which  man's  dangUng 
cordage  wastes,  by  degrees,  and  yields  its  place  to  long, 
green  streamers  much  hke  those  that  clung  to  this  tall, 
taper  tree,  when  it  stood  in  the  northern  forest. 

These  waves  have  rolled  their- breasts  about  amid  the 
wrecks  and  weeds  of  th^  hot  stream  that  comes  up  many 
thousands  of  miles,  out  of  th'e  Gulf  of  Mexico,  as  the 
great  Mississippi  goes  down  into  it,  and  by  and  by  these 
waves  will  move,  all  numb  and  chilled,  among  the  mighty 
icebergs  and  ice-fields  that  naust  be  brought  down  from 
the  poles.  „ 

Busjjj  wandering,  reckless,  heartless,  murderous  waves ! 
Have  ye  borne  down  into  the  ravening  moutjis  of  the 
lower  Deep,  the  innocent  body  of  our  missing  girl,  after 
>hat  ye  had  tossed  it  about,  from  one  to  another,  un- 
twining  the  long  hair,  one  lock  of  whic|  would  be  so  dears 
to  some  that  live;  smearing  the  eyes }that  were  so  glad 
and  gladdening ;— sliniing  the- 


Oh I  is  that  body  in  the  8e&?yM 

There  Iq  more  than  ^tae  mystery  in  Ijttle  Peter- 
port. 


^■ 


V-' 


^    •    *  f    ^  «  ( 


WHICH  WAT  SUSPICIOIT  IBADS. 


I4& 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

WHICH  WAr  snspioios  ieads. 

^.HE  Minister  had  Imd  no  time  for  Mr,  B»rri. 
.7  *-g  bu^^e  .earoh.  That  SaX^n'i  "J 

cured  at  Mr  U^w.  .  A  TT'^''  ""'  '«  '««'  «- 
bcok-n.ark  ^^n!.;'™"? 'l?''^'^""-^' '»  '"e middle.. 

"I  am  the  Good'sheXrf^.ld  ?  ■  "'■"  ""'  "'^"■'' 
delicate  German  texr  Tht'mal  «.'  T"."^-  ^"  » 
-co.ni.ed  a,  one  which  ^eTeltfTad        ■"'  ''T"' 

ov.ever  „a,  the  name  .Lucy  ZZ^'I^TZ^' 
from  having  been  also  written  in  r^  *^'''*' 

->'.  a  less  practised  11^^"  ^rZlT  ""•"«* 
"«  ^r  the  mother  «  "4w"„  ttn."*  """■■ 

Ai»e  present  con.litioii  of  the  b*.oIr  tn).      ■ 
Willi  Mrs    n„ii^    .         \  '  ^*'^*'"  *"  connection 

*»»"  Mrs.   Ullonin'i  conduct  in  reiraH  *«  .*         .     . 

probablo  that  it  woa  .«  u      u  *^       ^  *^  ™**«  >' 

to  the  fire.  '^  ^*^  ^«n  g'^en 

wi"::  h^  riii:""''  •'•"■■"  "-«<» 

momin  """"g  '°*'''^°  "»«  ^ridy 


'-■^«^.^ 


▼OL.  r. 


10 


■«F-      T" 


146 


THE  NEW  PRI?:ST. 


— ^  But  sh^  contrived  to  tell  different  stories  about  the 
Prayer-bopk,"  said  the  Minister ;  "  why  shouldn't  she, — 
if  she  had  occasion, — ^about  seeing  Lucy  Barbury  ?  " 

■**  Sometimes  they  won't  lie  to  a  straightforward  ques- 
tion ;  and  they'll  lie  fast  enough,  of  their  own  tongue : 
and  then  the  Priest  was  there  that  time,  and  he  wasn't, 
the  other." 

"  You're  too  severe  upon  Roman  Catholics,"  said  Mr. 
Wellon. 

"  Not  upon  her  sort  o'  Roman  Catholics,"  answered  the 
oondtable ;  "  I  know  *em,  sir, — too  well." 

"  We  seem  to  have  traced  her  to  just  about  that  place," 
said  Mr.  Wellon,  musing ; — "  so  far  she  seems  to  have 
gone  on  hen  own  feet, — and  alone." 

— "  And  there  they  picked  her  up,  when  she  fell  down," 
said  the  constable,  "  and  then  those  nuns  carried  her  off." 
"What  nuns?". 

f  That  Cap'n  Nolesworth  saw  ;  and  this  Yankee, — Mr. 
B!ank8,*they  call  un,  sir, — he  was  prying  about  there,  last 
night,  just  when  these  nuns  were  going  away  from  the 
house.  When  he  was  telling  his  story  he  said  they  car- 
ried something ;  and  so  I  followed  un  up.  He  couldn't 
tell  what  it  was,  for  the  night  was  dark  ;  but  there  were 
two  or  three  women,  and  carrying  something  among  'em 
down  the  Worrell,  there.  Being  a  stranger,  he  didn't, 
warit  to  be  brought  in,  he  said;  'twould  knock  up  his 
business." 

"  It's  a  pity  he  hadn't  helped  carry  her  down,  while  he 
was  about  it  I"  said  the  Parson;  "and  then  we  should 
have  had  some  better  evidence." 

"Then  there's  Cap'n  Nolesworth  knows  what  he's 
about ;  and  he  come  right  across  their  punt,  and  had  a 
good  look  atv  it,  with  his  lantern.     They  pulled  for  dear 


.^■7 


WmCH  WAY  SUSPICION  LEADS. 


147 


^'^ 


f^,l-  ■""  A.  T  ''*''  '"•*  ""^  ='"'  ^"'^'^y  ""ey  were 
holdmg  „i^Thafs  how  her  cap  got  do™  there^  con- 
eluded  the  constable. 

The  Minister  was  struck  with  Gilpin's  statement,  which 

-  J''  Tt""    '  '"^^*^^'  ^^  '^'  ^^^  circumstances  and^ 
tacts  of  the  case  within  their  knowledge. 

"  But,"  said  he,  "there's  no  proof,  and  who  do  you 
suppose  IS  at  the  bottom ,  of  it  ?  " 

"I  believe  Granny  Calloran  is,  sir;  and  that  priest, 
Father  Nicholas."  Mr.  Wellon  .mil.d.-"  And  then 
that  new  pnest  just  coming  here!"  exclaimed  the  con- 
.stable. 

;it's  a  '.popish  plot,'  with  a  vengeance  1 »  said  the 
Mm.ster;  "with  j^sj.  and  nuns  and  all.  But  what 
should  she  do  i|«|^and  what  should  the  priests  and 
nuns  be  concerpPiP  it  for  ?  " 

"If  Granny  Calloran  got  a  fair  chance  at  one  of  Mrs 
Barbury  s  daughters,--ay,  and  one  that  young  Urston 
was  leaving  their  priesthood  for,-she'd  do  it  -fast  enough, 
«^^,  1 11  go  bail.  She'd  steal  'em  to  make  Romans  of  'eml 
^"Hl  shed  steal  her  to  get  her  out  of  his  way;  and  the 
Pnests  and  nuns 'd  be  ready  enough^  to  lend  a  hand  at 
tl'at  work,  and  no  mistake.  'Twas  only  t'other  day  there 
was  that  case  at  home,  in  Lancashire/' 

"Ay,  but  Lucy  can't  have  conspired  with  them,"  said 
t^e  ]\I,„Kster,  upon  whom  Gilpin's  convictions  made  some 
.rnpre«s,on  ;-« if  there's  any  thing  sure  on  earth  I " 

I  can't  say  for  that,  sir,"  said  Gilpin^;  but  then,  cor- 

ect.ng  himself,  did  justice  to  Lucy,  without  injustice  to 

I.-  argument.     "  Oh  no  !  "  said  he,  "if  there's  truth  on 

earth,  she  s  got  it ;  but  she's  been  crazy,  by  spurt«,  ever 

since  she  was  sick,  you  know,  sir." 

—"J'a  b*  M,m,"  answered  ttrrTmTwfiT^ut  iH^lii^t 


. ,  -..1.4 


■■'     t 


+.    ,. 


148 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


run  away  everyday;  and  I  d0n']t  suppose  these  nuns 
have  been ,  over,  every  day ;  and  they  happened,  some 
how,  to  be  ju8t,>  in  time." 

"  So  they  light,  sir,  they  might ;  just  as  it'  happened 
there  was  nolmdy  with  Ilueyj  and  nobody  in  the  way,  on 
the  whole  path.  Tpit  nuns  were  there,  any  way^  sir ;  and 
Lucy  W(xs  down  there, — Jesse  saw  her  on  tjtie  road ; — and 
there's  her  Prayer-book, — come  out  o'  the  house ;  and  the 
nuns  carried  something  down ;  and  you  found  her  cap 
down  below ;  and  there  was  the  one  Cap'n  Nolesworth 
saw  in  the  punt,"  answered  the  constable,  summing  up, 
very  eJSfectively ;  "  and  Granny  Calloran  afraid  to  answer, 
All  the  priest  told  her  how ;  and  doing  her  worst  not  to 
let  me  have  that  book  ;  and  he  helping  her." 

"  Ho^  do  ;^ou  mean  '  telling  her  how  to  answer  ? '  " 
.      "  I  as]ks  her,  '  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Barbury's  daughter,  - 
since  yesterday  morning  ? '  three  times  ;  and  she  puts  me 
off' with  Irish  palaver;  and  then  he  says, 'you  needn't 
keep  'em  w/\iting,  IVfes.  Calloran ;  yoTi  can  tell  whether 
you  know  where  she  is ; '  and  yso  she  says,  fast  enough, 

*  Nb ;  I  don't  know,  any  more  than  I  knows  where  the 
Injina  i^  5 '  or  *  the  wild  Injins.' " 

"  Do  you  think  young  Urston  is  concerned  ?  " 
"  I  don't  think  he  is,  sir ;  he  doesn't  seem  like  it.  He 
didn't  seem  to  be  one  of  'em  t'other  day.  He's  very  much 
cut  up,  and  he's  been  out  all  night ;  but  that  isn't  all. 
When  I  saw  things  looking  that  Wayj  I  thought  I'd  make 
one  of  'em,  if  I  could,  while  that  priest  Was  there ;  and 
I  g»t  one  ear  in  among  'em,  far  enough." 

•  "  The  priest  talked  very  serious  to  the  young  man,  and- 
?aid  '  he  was  sorry  for  his  disappointment ;  it  seemed  a 
visitation  of  God,'  he  said.  '  Now  he'd  find  he  couldn't 
tet  big  heart  on  earthly  thing^s  ;  and  tljiB  only  way  was  to 


ij^'  |v?^,Aw7T 


»n  /    ,• 


'^1 


iH  WAY  SUSPICION. LEADS       .  149 

fljto  Gdd  whfce  the  wound  was  fresh^to  think  of  his 
promises  ;  and  to  think  what  he'd  cast'  away.-'     fee'said 
'bthers  had  been  through  it;'  (and  it  seemed  as  if  he'd 
cry  w  nle  he  was  about  it ;)  '  but/  he  said,  '  they'd  found  ^ 
the  balm,    or  'the  myrrh^  and  then  he  came  to  busi- 
ness, and  told  un  '  to-mbrrow  was  the  very  day  for  uh  to 
go, to  St  John's;  and  he'd  go  along  with  un,  and  there 
w,s  ^  glomus  path  for  un.'     Mrs.  Cafloran  only  vexed 
un,  with  telhng  him  how  Protestants  despised  un.'' 
"  You  listened  to  some,  purpose,"  said  the  Parson. 

VVell,  sir,  I'd  good  reason." 
"And  how  did  he  take  it  all?"  *  ' 

"He  told  the  priest  'he  was  sorry  to  disappoint  un; 
but  his  mind  was  made  up,  and  he'd  given  over  being  a 
priest ;    and  then  there  was  a  stir  among  'em,  and  I  come 
away,  and  m  two  or  three  minutes  the  priest  was  riding  .  '■ 
away  home."  '-    ° . 

/The  Minister  sate  a  little  while  in  thought,  and  then 

SclIQ  J——  I  ^       ■  .  • 

"  If  they  carried  her  away,  it's  a  ver^  strange  thing  I  . 
Ihere  seems  certainly  a  clue  as  fine  as  ^'  spider's  web/ 
leading  to  that  suspicion."  ^  ' 

"It  looks  as  plain  as  a  ship's  wake  . to  me^' sir,"  said ' 
C.|lp.n  his  eyQ  shining  like  thp  star  that  guides  sailors  on  ' 
a  trackless  sea.  .     '  v  .     . 

"  Hut  What  can  we  make  of  it,  beyond  suspicion  ?  V  ' 
.       I  we  had  a  inagistrate  that  "-^  the  constable  begftn, 
n  a  tone  of  smaU  observance  towards  the  greater  offidal' 
under,  or  around  Whom  he  mdVed.  "  ' 

"  We've  >  a  magistrate,'*  said  the  Parson,  smiling,      " 
ak-ng  the  words  as  if  there  hM  not  heen  a  « that "  at 
«nd  ;  »  and  we  must  get  "all  this  befdr^^im      -^ik 


t  -■    -)frw- 


-150 


:THE  J}EW  PKIEST; 


and^ieard?  and  t'U  make  a  memorandum  of  what  we've 
been  over"  to-ni^t,  to  serve,  if  there's  occasion."  ,^ 

^  And  we'd  better  -not  -talk,  sir,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Oh !  no.  Is  4hat  Mr.  Bangs,  the  American,  to  be 
had,  if  he's  wanted  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Wellon. 

"  He's  going  to  set  up  a  shop  here,  in  fall,  I  believe, 
sir.  T  shouldn't  w/)nder  if  he'd  gone  down  to  Bay  Har- 
bor l^hatever  he's  after)  : — ^he  asked  me  if  I  thought  he 
could  do  a  little  trading  with  the  priests,  there. — And 
Cap'n  Nolesworth's  at  Bay  Harbor,  by  this  time."  t 

"  Well,  thftft,  we  can't  do  any  more,  now ;  but  Chris- 
tian men  mustn't  forget  to  pray.  If  arty  liiing  turns  up, 
to-raorr^w,  please  let  me  know  it." 

The  constable  had  something  more  upon  his  mind,  and 
presently  saiA,  as  he  rose  to  go  (but  he  said  it  with  hesi- 
tation, as  if  it  were  not  of  his  business)  : — 

"  I  suppose  you  heard  about  this  new  priest  and  the 
widow-lady," Mrs.  B^e'rry,  sir  ?  Mora  than  one  thing  goes 
on  at  once,  in  this  world." 

"I  don't  know,"  the  Minister  answered. 

"  There's  stories  going  about  the  harbor,  that  they've 
had  meetings,  down  at  some  Roman  Catholic's,— in  Mad 
Cove,  they  say, — and  passed  some  high  words ;  but  it's 
very  likely,  only  people's  talk.  They  say  one  of  'em 
seems  to  have  some  sort  of  claim  upon  the  other,  or 
they're  relations,  or  something.  Some  says  it's  about 
some  great  fortune ;  that  he's  her  brother,  and  wants  to 
get  all  away  to  give  to  his  Church.  (They  say  he  looks 
like  Her.)^  I  hears  he  got  into  a  great  passion  and  was 
very  abusive,  and  she  just  as  gentle  as  a  lamb ;  but  I  don't 
believe'  that  of  him,  for  Skipper  George  and  everybody 
gives  un  a  good  name  foi-  being  very  civil-spoken,  and 
kind  in  hia  way." 


.r 


<'(     l_, 


4rk-^ 


WHICH  WAY  SUSPICION  LEADS.  jsj 

•  «I  don't  believe  it,  eitiier;  but  I  know  that  theVre 
related— probably,  nearly.  He  does  look  like  her  •  I'd 
forgotten.— Now,  you'U  teU  me,  to-morrow,  if  any  thing 
happens,  please.     Good-night ! " 

The  day's  work  was  done,  and  the  week's;  but  there 
lay  over  a  heavyii>urden  for  the  coming  time  to  bear. 


^  ^. 


Ui 


*   \ 


THE  NEW  PBIEST. 


^-^1 


\ 


CHAPTER  XVin. 


THE    DAT    FOR    REST. 

I N  the  next  day,  Sunday,  it  ma^^ell  be  thought 
that  the  church  showed  signs  of  general  sorrow; 
^tidings  had  come  from  every  quarter,  and  nothing 
could  be  heard  of  Lucy  Barbury,    Before  the  flag  (which 
had  not,  that  hioming,  flung  its  white  cro^ss  abroad  upon 
the  fresh  air,  but  had  hung  heavily)  was  hauled  down, 
the  little  parties,  by  land  and  water,  gathered,  anxious 
and  agitated-looking,  instead  of  wearing  the  Day's  peace; 
and  silently  and  straight  down  the  road,  With  his  broad 
head"  bowed,  came  Skipper  George,  without  his  wife,  and 
escorted  by  Jesse  Hill  and  Isaac  Maffen  on  the  one  side, 
and  Mr.  Skilton  (the  second  smith)  on  the  other.     Sev- 
.      eral  women,  of  his  family  and  neighbors,  followed  him  in 
silence.     As  the  brave  man  came  to-  the  point  at  which 
he  was  to  turn  up  from  the  road  to  the  church-door|4ie 
,      gave  one  glance  over  to  the  sea,  and  one  over  the  land ; 
then,  as  if  forgetting  himself,  took  off  his  hat  in  the  open 
air.     At  the  instant,  every  man's  head  was  silently  un- 
covered, ai^d  every  woman  dropped  a  silent  courtesy. 
I  It  had   been   customary  to  chant  the   Canticles   and 
^^l^xology,   as    well   as   to   sing   the   Metre-psalms    and 
Hnns ;  but  this  day,  the  chief  bass  (Skipper  Charlie) 
°^^"  j'j^  P^^^l-  ^^'  P»Per  s  ^^Q^".— whicb^for  love 


/ 


1     ••/)l--^,JiT,       -f^-^ 


<■,  ^-r 


( (.,  -j^ 


THE   DAY  FOR  REST. 


153 


?i  'TT'  ^^*^^■°^*"^<^  Irishman,  was  aUowed  to 
set  the  pitch  and  go  with  the  voice8,-did  not  appear; 
and  (what  was  the  great  want)  there  was  no  heart  for 
•     ^^Y^      Even   the  Clerk,  Mr.  Williamson,   tiying  tp 
lead,  broke  down.     The   answering  of  the  people  was 
more  full  than  usual;  and  when  the  priest,  at  the  peti- 
tion     to  succor,  help,  and  comfort  all  that  are  in  danger 
necessity,   and   tribulation,"   added,   "  especially  George' 
Barbury,  our  brother,  and  his  family,"  thn,s  binding  their 
special  sorrow  to  the  prayer  of  millions,  and  of  ages,  the 
great  voice  of  the  congregation  trembled ;  and  agafn,  at 
the  next  petition,  for  them  th^t  travel  by  sea  or  land 
there  was  a  general  feeling,  as  if  a  wind  from  the  deep 
Bay  or  dreary  Barrens  had  blown  In.    So  moms  went  by 
at  church,  sadly.    The  Minister  preached,  out  of  his  heart. 
about  the  Lord's  having  all  an  his  hand. 

After  the  forenoon  service,  J^sse  edged  himself  4ip^ 
the  Minister,  and  said  : —  i^ 

.;"Ee  could  n'  'ave  e'er  a  funeral  sarvice,  could  'ee,  sir, 
tor  Uncle  George,  to  comfort^nn  up,  a  bit  ?  " 

Gilpin  was  near  enough  to  hear,  (indeed,  good  Jesse 
looked  aside  to  him,  during  the  saying  of  it,  for  his  suf- 
Irage,)  and  the  eye  of  the  constable  twinkled  ;  but  he  did 
not  smile  at  the  honest  fellow's  mistake.     - 

"Please  God,  we  may  find  her, alive  yet,  Jesse,"  said 

he.  i 

"I  wish  we  mought,  indeed,  Mr.  Gulpin,"  returned  the 
hsherman  ;  "  but  I  don't  think  it." 

'  Isaac  Maffen  shook  his  head,  in  melancholy  confirma- 
tion. 

"  You  won't  forget  Mrs.  Barr^,"  said  Miss  Dare,  to  the 
^Oistgr^  when  she  had  opportunity. 


Gilpin  followed  the  magistrate,  Mr.  Naughton ;  and, 


* 


154 


THf:  NEW  PRIEST. 


having  come  to  speech  with  him,  began  to  lay  his  case 
before  him. 

"It  *11  be  cleared  up,  Charles,"  said  the  magistrate,  sen- 
tentiously,  by  the  time  they  got  to  the  solid  part  of  it. 

"  Not  without  taking  the  law  to  it,  I'm  thinking,  sir," 
said  Gilpin. 

"  You  couldn't  do  any  thing  about  dt  on  Sunday,"  an- 
swered the  stipendiary. 

"  It  isn't  a  civil  prossess,  you  know,  sir ;  it's  criminal." 

"  That  depends  upon  what  it's  called,"  said  the  magis- 
trate ;  "  but  I'm  obliged  to  go  away,  as  soon  as  possible, 
out  of  the  harbor.  If  there's  any  thing  to  be  done,' I'll 
attend  to  it  when  I  come  back.     I  shall  act  deliberately." 

So  saying,,  the  Stipendiary  hurried  through  his  own 
gate.  ' 

Gilpin  looked  after  him,  a  moment,  with  a  curious  twist 
on  his  lips ;  then,  nodding  his  head,  as  if  he  knew  of 
another  way,  went  up  the  harbor.  Mr.  Naughton's  house 
was  apart  from  the  road,  and  near  the  cliff  on  which  the 
flagstaff  stood. 

The  constable  passed  the  drung  *  that  led  up  to  his 
forge  and  dwelHng,  and  keeping  ,on,  to  Mr.  Werner's, 
knocked  at  the  door,  and  asked  for  Miss  Dare. 

He  took  off  his  hat,  and  scratched  his  head  with  his " 
forefinger,  in  the  presence  of  the  young  lady^nd  then, 
having  obtained  leave  to  speak  with  her  a  moment,  on 
important  business,  he  changed  her  astonishment  into 
extreme  agitation,  by  saying,  « I've  come  about  Skipper 
George's  daughter,  please.  Miss  Dare." 

"  What  of  her  ?— Is  she  found  ?^Is  any  thing  heard 
of  her  ?  "  she  cried,  turning  paler  than  ever,  but  keeping 
command  of  herself 

»  ilaiTOw  way  ^  0»  EngiSrirDm^ffie  lam&loiires^  arffirOTfT — "" 


THE   DAY   FOR.  REST. 


lo5 


"Not  exactly    Miss;  .but  there's  some  track  of  her 
1  beheve.      I   th  nfe  ihai^^'^    ^^        t   .  ' 

any  th.ng.  dbn  t  «pare  it.     I.  won't  be  wanting  :-a.d  do 

follow  ou,  the  least  thing,  won't  you  ?     I  wish  I  JZ  do 

something  more  about  it." 

"  I'll  try  and  do  my  part,  with  a  heart  and  a  half"  said 
<te  constable;  "and  there  .-.something,  Mias,  If  you  U 
exouse  me  for  thinHng  of  it;_it's  a  tittle  u^eomm  n 
I  know.     If  you  d   only  just   please   to   speak  to  Mr 
Naughton,  and  get  un  to  do  something." 

"  But  I'm  not  the  person,"  sajd  the  young  lady,  "  to 
speak  to  Mr.  Naughton  about  his  duty"  ^ 

"hmm^^  '•«">=-=,  I  know,"  answered  the  constable; 

but  Mr.  Naughton  isn't  like  everybody.     I've  been  to 
-  about  .,,a„d  I  couldn't  do  an/thi„g  with  u„    Th" 

adn'tttme:  he  wa.  called  away.'     I  knows  un.     h"u 
be  onto' the  harbor  in  half  an  hour" 

to  lira"  •  ""  ^'""'"' "'""'' '"'  ""  P™P«^  P^'^""  'o  ^Pook 

"It's  a  busy  day  with  his  reverence,"  said  Gilpin: 

"  But  what  am  I  to  try  to  do  ?  " 

peZ'  nf  ''Z-"^  ''^'  "P  ''"^^  P^^^^«  '^^'  ^«  sus- 
pected, please,  Miss  Dare." 

"  What !  not  of  murdering  her  !  " 
;;  No  Miss  ;  I  don't  know^hat's  been  done  to  her." 
^"M^^^  ^^'"^  -'--"^  ^^'  till  w.  know 


..  .■■^- — ■ — ■ 1 — - — z —  '^^>***" — ***!       ti'fff        TTt?      It-lltJiy" 

more  ;  but  if  I  can  do  any  thing,  I'm  sure  I 


.5!Sp 


156 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


will,  with  all  my  heart,  as  you  say.     Certainly  I'll  speak 
to  Mr.  Naughton,  if  that's  the  case." 

"  Thank  you,  Miss ;  and  I'll  go  out  the  back  way,  if 
Ifbu  please  ;  he  mustn't  know  that  I  was  here." 

After  the  constable's  departure,  Miss  Dare  stationed 
herself  near  the  garden  fence  by  the  road,  and  presently 
the  solid,  flat  horse-tramp,  which  brings  to  the  mind  in- 
stinctively the  image  of  a  man  rising  and  falling  in  the 
saddle,  on  a  very  hard  and  slow-going  beast,  came  to  her 
ear.    After  a  time,  the  horse  and  his  rider  made  their  ap- 
pearance, the  latter  seeming  to  be  getting  on  faster  than 
the  former,  except  that   he  never   got   over   his   head. 
Which  saw  Miss  Dare  first,  (for,  though  there  was  some 
shrubbery,  there  were  no  trees  of  any  consequence  on 
Mr.  Worner's  premises,)  cannot  be  said ;  the  effects  on 
each  were  simultaneous.     Mr.  Naughton  did  not  let  it 
appear  that  he  was  conscious  of  her  presence,  unless  in- 
voluntarily, by  coloring  and  looking  more  deliberately  to 
each  side  of  the  road  than  usual,  and  by  unusual  atten- 
tion (between  whiles)  to  liiA  steed.      It  seemed  to  him 
proper  to  go  over  that  part  of  the  road  (which  was  l^yel, 
with  the  fence  on  one  side  and  storehouses  on  the  ht 
with  a  sidling,  curveting,  prancing,  and  other  ornam^j 
horsemanship ;  and  he  sat  up  for  it  and  reined  in  forlt 
Meantime  the  horse  (men  called  him,  familiarly,  "  Donk," 
from  a  certain  sparseness  of  hair  upon  his  tail)  was  will- 
ing to  sidle, — made  one  duck  with  his  head  towards  the 
curveting,  (and,  in  so  doing,  got  the   bit  between   his 
teeth,)  but  wished  to  dispense  with  the  prancing,  as  a 
vain  and  superfluous  performance.     His  notion  seemed 
to  be  that  the  sidle  might  be  made  usefUl  as  well  as  orna- 
mental, and  might  bring  them  up  to  the  fence  where  the 
young  lady  stood ;  and  then  he  could  uifaetJip. 


graaa^-flaL 


i 


♦   r 


^  the  only  mag- 

rgoing  or  atay- 

place." 


THE   DAY  FOR  REST.  '       «- 

157 

shut  his  eyes  and  meditate,  while  the  two  human  beings 
amused  themselves  with  conversation  ^ 

upo'nit'tht  T'"':! ''  ^'-  ''^"»'^^"  P"^  ^^^  ^^^^  grace 
upon  1    that  he  could,  and  sat  up  on  his  steed,  a  short 

man  wuh  small  eyes  and  large  whiskers.  '  ^ 

of  ^rh?'"''  '''""  ''  th.4nagistrate  gave  no  evidence 
of  her  havmg  seen  any  thing  ridiculous  in  his  progress. 

"You're  not  going  away  just  now,  of  all  timS,  Mr 
mughton,  surely,"  said  she,  «  wh      ^ 
istrate  ?  " 

"Am  I  to  flatter  myself,  the.^ 
ing  is  of  any  consequence  to  Miss 
;;  Certainly ;  and  to  every  bod/i.  ...  p,,^.  • 

to  the  .n""  \"'^'f' '' ™  '^^""^^  little  consequence 
to  the  state  and  to  the  community,"  returned  he 

^  "  There  can  be  only  one  feeling  in  the  community,"  said 
the  young  lady,  as  Mr.  Naughton  drew  suddenly  up  the 
rem,  to  resume  his  progress. 

Animation  seemed  ta^  be  diffused  through  the  body  of 
the  quiescent  Donk  by  electricity,  (though  not  so  fest  as 
hghtnmg^)  for  the  memorable  tail  went  up  by  a  ierk,like 
that  of  the  more  intelligent  taember,  to  which  the  bridle 
was  attached,  though  with  a  slight  interval  Mr  Nau^ 
ton  this  time,  attempted  no  caracoling  or  capricolinM 
studied  to  combine  the  several  wills  of  man  and  beast  o4 
one  contmuous  (and  pretty  rapid)  motion.  If  he  did  not 
at  once  nor  entirely  succeed,  even  with  frequent  sharp 
spurnng,  Miss  Dare  was  not  ther^  to  see.  . 

At  Evensong,   the  magistrate   was  ■  in    his  place  at 

to  Srie't-r"  'r.  '''""^"''  ^^^^"^«"  briefly  listened 
to  Charles  Gilpm,  he  issued  the  decided  order 

"  T<^"J,  bring ,  those  partka  l^gfor^ 

'"^mortem  momlngf*        /     "" 


.  ^ 


'lil' 


•y^ 


■^j'T^Tvis; 


158 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


«I  shall  want  a  warrant,  you  know,  8ir,"%aid  Gilpin. 
Whether  the  stipendiary  had  forgotten,  or  wished  to 
.consult  his  "Justices'  Assistant,"  he  maintained  his  dig- 
nity,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  symmetry  of  his  arrange- 
ments. 

"You'U  call  for  that  at  ten  o'clock  this  evening," 
said  he. 


^ 


£> 


'is 


«» 


4 


■I   *'  '  '_  wmm 


X 


-k   §USPECTED  PERSONS. 


159 


«   *^ 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

SUSPECTED    PERSONS.  t^ 

jE  pass  to  the  next  day,  the  vane  of  suspicion 
having,  within   twenty-four  hours,  (though  no 
man  could  say  that  any  wind  Bad  been  blowing) 
got  round,  and  pointed  straight  to  Mr.  Urston's  house. 

On  the  Sunday  afternoon,  young  Urston  had  been  at 
church,  and,  after  service,  Skipper  George  had  called  the 
young  maq  to  himself,  and  walked  with  him  quite  over  to 
tlie  B^kside.  He  was  not  suspected  j  but  rumors  had 
got  about  that  three  females  went  away  in  the  punt,  in 
which  ofily  two  had  come. 

On  this  Monday  morning,  that  sound  so  interesting  to 
boys  and  men,  of  hammer  ringing  upon  anvil  was  not 
heard  at  Skipper  Charlie's  smithy;  nor  that  other,  of 
blended  human  voices,  teUing,  asking,  speculating  upon 
the  news  or  gossip  of  the  place  ;  for  here,  where  are  no 
barbers  shops  or  coffee-houses,  every  thing  th^t  is  to  be 
told  and  heard  is  brought  to  the  smithes  forge,  and,  be- 
ing heated  hot,  is  laid  upon  the  anvil,  pounded,  tymed, 
and  pounded  into  a  final  shape.  The  smith  and  con- 
stable himself,— whose  manifold  name  of  Gilpin,  Galpin, 
Gulpin,  might  remind  one  of  the  derivation,  Nipkin— 
napkin—diaper^draper—TKiLon,  or  the  wore  classic 
"'       t— ^fl—lfeji:— mir— fUCflfl     FOX     wftfl/al  uboul 


*-,-i 
1 1'^' 


J 


eight  o'clock,  walking  quickly,  with  several  c^mpaniofis. 


r^^-^* 


IfiO 


^    THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


K 


along  a  patli  that  led  from  near  his  house  downward  on 
the  Backside.  With  him  were  William  Frank,  commonly 
called  BiUy  Bow,  Zebedee  Marchant,  Nathan  Marcharit, 
Jesse  Hill,  and  Isaac  Maffen,  who  had  severally  (except 
the  last  two)  fallen  in  behind  him  at  different:  points, 
like  the  involuntary  Mowers  in  some  of  the   German 

"  Can  'ee  walk  in  ef  the  door  shouldn'  be  open,  Skip- 
per Charlie?"  asked  Billy  Bow,  who  was  considered  a 
great  humdHst  by  his  neighbors. 

"  It'll  go  hard  if  I  can't  get  into  e'er  a  house  that's  got 
a  door  or.  window,  open  or  shut,"  answered  the  constable. 
"  'E's  got  to  keep  the  lying's  peace,"  sai4  Billy  Bow ; 
«  an'  I'm  afeaped  'e'll  get  it  broke  into  a  good  many  pieces." 
"  Ef  the  constable  kicks^  up  e'er  a  rout,  boys,"  said  one 
of  the  others,  «'e've  got.  a  good  many  craft  in  tow,  that 
can  keep  un  from  hurting  'isself." 

"It  would'n'  be  good  subjecks,  an'  shcrw  respec'  to  the 
kmg,  ef  we  didn'  favor  'e's  constables,  after  'e's  abin  and 
tookt  the  trouble  to  appoint  'em,  an'  'e's  trusty  an'  well- 
belovmg  yeoman,  Mr.  Charles  Gulpin,  petic'lar ;  we  mus' 
give  'em  a  chance  to  do  their  dooty,  'ee  knows,  Skipper 
Charlie,"  said  another  of  ihe^posse  comitatus. 

"  Let  me  ketch  ye  givin'  me  a  chance,  (without  there's 
good  causQ  for  it,)  and  I'll  do  my  dooty  on  you,  veiy 
quick,"  returned  Skipper  Charlie. 

With  such  .simple  «ttempts  at  wit,  did  the  quiet  and 
good-nati^ed  Newfoundlanders  follow  their  "  officer ; "  and 
with  such  downright  authority  did  the  officer  maintain  the 
dignity  of  the  law  and  the  constabulary.  Other  topics 
also  oocapied  them  :  Jesse  was  engaged  in -literary  criU- 
*  ^^'"^  liat^ned  at  the  window  of  the  Wesleyao 
"^       a,  Tir«  Itmefal,  vM  Ifien  given,  to  a  Wei- 


<"»     ■    'vl-- 


yt!l 


SPSPECTED  PERSONS.  .ig,j 

leyan  friend  who  asked  i,,  the  opinion  he  wasj^ow  repeat- 

" '  Abner,'  I  says,  '  there  was  text  out  of  Scripture 
sure,  Isaj.  an-  a  little  about  Bow  we"  ought  to  do."' 
says;  'JUS'  hke  anybody;  an'  then  varses  L  scmns  o' 
poultry,  an'  such;  an'. then  n,ore,  agen,  an'  «.  on  Tt  I 
■  wa.n  a  proper-growed  sarmun,  at  all,'  I  says,  'not  whi 
I  calls  p^per-growed.'  So  tfef  n  he  couldn-  i/nothiu- 
when  I  teUed  un  that,  'e  couldq' "  ' 

.::ie.""!'Nryo:  Zr'^:  ^'"'\  ^^i  -"'  "=«  - 

anv  more  -if  '  ^        ""^  L^re,:^  I  don't  want 

any  more ,  .f  any  comes,  send  'em  back,)_and,»when  ve 
^  wuhm  hai,  o'the  house,  bring  up,  Lll  stan  .„g  and 
%  to  ;  an  don't  sfr  tack  nor^l^et,  tiU  I  teUs  ye. '  fLy'U 
be  just  about  coming  in  from  the  water  " 

pk    famhar  tongue-Gilpin  went  ,.^  with  the  other  half  ^ 

■nuu  wth  hke  mstructions.     While,  still  a  good  way  off 

g  m  front  of  them,  going  fast  in  the  same  direction,  the 
Ull.  strong  figure  of  the  bereaved  father.  As  SkiLper 
George  went  into  the  house,  they  kept  C^e  to  him   '' 

a.  the  W      '??",'""'""■•''  ^^  ^'-  CaUoL;  "he's  jua. 
at  the  Worrell,  beyont."  ...  $        •' 

"Ay!  call  un,  please,"  said  the  conatable,  .ddinir   i.  ■ 
sue  passed  out  of  hearing   «  K...    c      '  ■.  j   "'!'""''«•  " 
fhi„„        .      .        "*""'&  "  bn«,  if  anybody  kno«  any 
'tmg,  you're  the  one,  I'm  thinking."  ' 

The  father,  while  they  waited,  stood   with  hi,  f«» 
^-amst  h.s  baud  upon  the  waU;  his  gri..led  locksTj^^ 

''l^^ards,  "a  body  could  atia'ce  look  at  un  wi'  Z^^.^ 
It  wm  m  fwlua,  liho."  ^  ^    ' 


e 


162  THE  NEW  PBIEST. 

Mr.  Urston  came  in  very  frankly,  sliowin^  no  surprise 

at  the  number  of  persons  present,  and  answered,  before 

-^he  was  asked  the  question,  « that  he  did  not  know  where 

^  "^      JB*. "Barbury's   daughter  was;   h^  wished   he   did;  he 

wouldn't  keep  it  to  himself  long."     , 

Skipper  George,  who  had  turned  round  at  the  sound 
of  footsteps,  sank  heavily  down  into  a  chair.  It  was 
evident,  from  the  effect  of  these  words  upon  his  feelings, 
that,*  in  spite  of  himself,  he  had  not  only  feared  but  hoped 
something  from  this  visit,  .and  that  the  hope  was  nfxk 
**        smitten  within  him.         •  ^ 

"Look  to  un,  some  of  ye!"  cried.  Gilpin.    "Handle 
un  gently." 

"N'y    lovies,"    said    Skipper    George,    catching    his 
breath,  as  if  he  had  been  through  a  severe  struggle  in  the 
waves,  "thai*^e  !     Whatever  was  o'  George  Barbury,— 
thank  God!   thank  God!— it  b^des  here  yet;   onV  two 
tarrible  heavy  blows  on  the  same  pla*,— that's  lossing 
'er  before,  an'  now,  agen,  lossin'  that  false,  foolish  hope,— 
have  abrougbt  me  down.     I'm  a  poor,  smful  Christen ; 
but  I  ^  a 'Christen,  an'  I  can  get  up.— I  believes  'ee. 
Mister  Urston;  I'm  sorry  to  trouble  'ee ;  but  'ee  kWrr»-  , 
I've  dossed  my  child/     Some  thinks  'ee'd  want  to  turn 
her  from  her  religion ;  but,  ef  'ee  had  e'el*  a  chance,  'ee 
wouldn'  make  a  cruel  trial  of  her  dear,  tender  heart,  nor 
her  faith  in  the  dear  Saviour  she  loved  an'  sarved  sunce 
ever  she  knowed  'E's  blessed  name !     Woirid  'ee  ? '' 

There  was  something  very  affecting  in  this  speech  and 
-^  the  father's  tears  that  accompanied  it. 

Mr.  Urston  said  that  ^'  if  ever  he  should  hear  of  her,  or 
find  her,  or  any  trace  of  her,  the  father  should  hear  of  it 
as  8(^n  as  he  could  get  the  word  to  him  ; "  and  he  said  it 
with  much  feeling.     "Thej  were  of  a  different^  religion, 


K'.- 


\    SITSPfOTED  PERSONS.  \  ,^o 

loo 

perhaps,  but  ^pt  ^  a'*difierent  nature.     He  feh  for  him 
from  the  bottom  of  his  heart"  ' 

"HerVaith's.nbfhing  that  can  be  turned  about,"  said 
James.  Urston.     ."  It  would  go  thrbugh  fi.Vnhurt." 

At  this,  Mrs.  Calloran  made  some  remark,  aside  which 
could,  not  b.  overheard.  Skipper  George  thanked  t^e' 
yaung  man,  fed  rose  to  go,  declining,  kindly,  theJiospit- 
able  mvitations  urged  upon  him. 

"  Go  with  un,  J-esse,"  said  Skipper  Charlie ;  and  Jess^ 
and  his  adherent  went  out  with  him. 

"Now,  I've  got,a  bit  of  disagree'ble  dooty  to  perform," 
said -the  constable,  as  he  proceeded  quickly  to  lay  his  hand 
upon  one  after  another  of  those  present,  and  to  arrest 
them.  '  .  -«.         . 

"  This  ia  y  W^ant,"  said  he.  "  I'm  doing  my  dooty, 
and  I II  do  ,.  as.  civilly  a,  I  know  how.  I-n,,  command^S 
to  have  Ihe  bodies  of  Bridget  CaUoran.  ind  Thoias 
Urston  and  James,  <  before  me.  the  worshipfnl  Ambrose 
JNaughton,  Esquire,  Stipendiary  Magistrate,  &c  &c  •  as 
witness  my  hand  and  seal  of  office.' " 

Gilpin's  proceeding  »;,tonnded  Mr.  Urston  and  his  son, 
and  was  very  exciting  to  all  present;  l«  whom  capiases, 
and  warrants,  and  writs,  are  strartge  things.  Even  the 
sm,fe;with  which  Gilpin' (who  was  more  ftmiliar  with 
uch  th,ngs_theo^ically,at  least-)  read  Mr.  Naugh- 
or,  s  indirect  asserUon  of  hi,  offli»idignity,  Sid  nor  5te 
rrom  the  excitement.  . 

ahl'?rV"'  ''  ""'  ^"8"'''  •»"'  <M  they  brag    * 
about?    Bnng  up  their  bodies  to  examffthim!     kI 

tinm  first,  an' try  thim  after  !>  exdaimed  M™.  Cuioral 
s  th„.a«  way.  it  is  wid  yes?  an'  is  this  Protestant 
justice  ?    Sure,  it',  small  justice  ye  can  do  an  a  eorrups  I 
A«d  do  .^ou  ,«iy  manyto  kill  us,  thin,  ar  what  ?  » 

ft 


■^^i> 


^ 


t" 


'  '4 

^^^^^^Pf 

\'      '  -.,  ,,^v 

*  -^ 

w^ 

t  A  . 

'%      %% 

m,  T 

!% 

1''-^ 


^  THE  NiJir  PRIEST. 

^  tmn  waa  ready  to  contend  with  her  tongue 
as  in  the;eneoun|er  of  fwo  days'  before ;  but  a  k)ok 
Mr.  Ur8ton,^who  acted  a^  spoke  with  a  aelf-posst^ 
and  dignity  that  contraste^f^trongly  with  his  surroi 
ings,— put.ber  to  sile^.      ||  .  ^^       M.  - 

"He  could  jiot  ittjderstandphis  mos^^ep^aorcRBaryp 
e^eding,"I#  said,  "and  kaevfe^^mor|:^abd^ii^  „. 
"^•^g  ^way'  fe  Barbary^iiJught^^n  the  ^thelf «, 


liii 


jut  would  make  no  resistance  to  a  le 

le,  ke  b6^ed  thKis^p: 
ched.     Tbe  constablp  % 


^Mr.  .Barbii%8 


sej 


»g-, 


'  S;.'^ 


)34|i 


V' 


Mr.  Urston's  presence^ 

^  out  at  this' point,—     5,C  ' 

**^|^Sn|^^^^e^l|raste,  thin  ?  *    Sind^  fbjf,  the 

r  i.Tllei-e^f'i^ther  Igrtashis  is  at  MistKer  C'Rou^ie's 

beyanti  l^y'U  ni^^er.deny -us  the  sacramints  from1»ur 

^ckrgtl    Wi%esindfbrthepraste?"  f 

"May  b^re'll  have  to  send  for  them  bimebye,"  sj 

il^n  a*ide.V    He  then  comforted  Mrs.  Calloran  with  jm 

iii»ee,  "that  she  should  hang  like  a  Christen,  if  she 

[found  guilty." 

Tlte  preparations  for  going  were  soon  made;  the  con- 
stable fesuring  his  prisoners  tiiat,'at^  any  rate,  they  could 
Lcona^  home  a  bit  after  the  examination,  even  if  the  magis- 
trate should  commit  them.  So  they  set  forth  for  the  wor- 
sl^i^ul  magistrate's  presence.  -  . 

'  Oaj;;^  another  of  Gilpin's  former  escort  made  his 
•'^peara^^--by  the   way.      J^se  Hill,  ak),  and  Isaac 
fen  reappeared. 

Mr.  Urston  complimented  the  constable  upon  his 
eralship;  but  assured  him  that  he ,  didn't  want  so 
help.      ,. ' 


r   ^1 


'■>  ■         ... 

•   ■  ^^    ' 

>    S<JSPECTED  PEBSONS.  jgg 

"It's  good  to  have  enough  of  a 'good  thing,"  said  the 
.nstable,  glancing  with  his  "one  eye  oyer  his  troops, 
^ilham,  you  take  command  o'  these  hmbs  o'  the  law, 
H^ye?     Keep  about  two  or  three  cables'  length  astern!. 

^  «f  Isaac  (w^o,  with  tlie  constable,  made  one  for  ea<3h 
31  Dnsoner)  These  attached  themselves  to  the  immediate 
^.  *.|sQort,  and  were  not  meddled  with.  Jesse  and  Isaac 
^  ^ere  tWo  impoi^nt  witnesses. 

Near  the  bush,  from  behind  which  Jesse  had  seen  his 

,api,antK>n  come  forth,  the  new  Priest  was  lingering  to^ 

meet  the  approaching   party.     Jesse,  at   sight  of  him,. 

bnstled,  a  good  deal  like  a  sturdy  mastiff,  and  Isaac  felt 

contagious  animosity.   Mrs.  Calloran  expressed  herself  by  • 

s«iH^r''  ^^u  ^'  "''  ^''  "^^^«"««'  Father  Ignatius,"  she  ' 
said,  though  he  could  not  hear  her,  and  could  only  have 
seen  the  zealous  and  eager  courtesy  that  she   dropp'ed 

"You  may  as  well  keep  a  stopper  on  your  tongue, 

want    rh     "  ^        """'  "^  '"'  f^"*""" '  ""^  I  don't 
want  ,0  brmg  un  into  trouble  for  meddling  with  in  officer 

■n  llie  execution  of  his  warrant." 

F^her  Debree  stood  quite  unmoved  at  the  evidently 

M'ie  expression  of  the  escprt,,«r,  at  least,  if  not  u,^ 

moved  h.s  face  did  not  lose  any  things  i„  vety  hand- 

-mo  openness  and  dignity.     His  manner,  IjoweTer,  wa. 


) 


11^  8aluu«l  the  pnsonew  and  constable/and  even  J^ 


■  ■u 


166 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


and  Isaac,  who  looked  gruff  and  implacable,  exceedingly, 
and  scarcely  returned  the  salutation.  The  constable, 
though  not  cordial  or  over-courteous,  kept  himself  from 
showing  any  active  disUke.  The  Priest  addressed  him  in 
a  very  prepossessing  voice, — 

"  I  think  you're  the  constable, — Mr.  Gilpin, — are  you 
not?" 

"  I'm  constable,  sir,  for  want  of  a  better,"  said  Skipper 
Charlie;  " and  blacksmith,  too." 

"  May  I  have  a  moment's  conversation  with  you  ?  " 

"  Not  .about  my  prisoners  ;  Tm  going  with  'em  to  the 
magistrate's.  You  can  go  along,  sir,  if  you  please,"  said 
Gilpin,  but  falling,  at  the  same  time,  in  tlie  rear. 

"  You  mistake  me,"  said  the  Priest ;  "  I've  no  wish  to 
interfere  between  you  and  your  prisonei-s.  tf  1  could 
be  of  any  service,  in  a  proper  and  lawful  way,  to  any 
one  whose  friend  I  ought  to  be,  I'm  sure  you  wouldn't 
fft&nle  it ;  but  I  want  to  ask  if  you  have  found  any 
s^hing  to  throw  a  light  on  Skipper  George's  daughter's 
fate?" 

"  I  hope  we  shall  find  out  about  it,"  said  the  constable, 
ambiguously.  ^ 

"Are  these  prisoners  arrested  on   suspicion  of  bein^' 
connected  with  it  ?  " 

"It'll  appear  on  their  examinatiojp^  sir,**  angwered 
Gilpin. 

"  I  don't;  wish  to  ask  any  improper  question ;  but  I 
know  the  father,  and  I  know  her,  and  I  know  them,  and 
feel  very  much  interested ; — I  ask  as  a  friend." 

Gilpin's  one  sharp  eye  had  been  fixed  on  the  speaker's 
face. 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  Protestants  have  made  way  with , 
her,"  said  he,  jmd,  bowing,  moved  hjs  company  on.| 


It       •  ,  > 


AN  OFFICIAL  EXAMINATION. 


167 


CHAPTEI^  XX. 


AK  OFFICIAL   EXAMmxiON  FROM  WHICH  SOMETHING 

,  APPEARS. 

^HE  magistrate's  house,  to  the  parly  now  ap. 
proachng  it,  looked  as  a  house  might  iook,  whicL^ 
_      built  m  ver^  ungainly  style  and  of  no  large  dimen 
s.ons,  waa  dignified  by  its  associaUon  with  the  mSiZir 
-d  now  clothed  in  all  the  awfubess  of  an  offlowlS 

"^  on  Mr  Gulp,n,"  or  his  prisoners,  who  walked  with 
*le  apprehension,  up  to  th.  f^nt  door;  unmindful  W 
he  gravel-stones  were  scattered  from  their  heels-  bur^ 
he  va  ant  Jesse  and  the  valiant  Isaac  an  aw^l  fl'  ^  ^f 

:: ::  !,:tr"'d  i  ^■"""'"^ "-  ^'"''■=«-  --^  ^ 

ne  «ay.    They  drew  off  to  each  side;  accountm/fc, 
...nove™     t    ,,  .,,  ,„^^  LTZ72: 

"o  yet,  1  don  t  suppose,  do  'e  ?  " 

'he  nJweo™!  r'      k"  "'''"  """"■"■"'  ''"«« 
tl.em  to    I    T     ^.  "  """'^  ■"""ement,  which  brought 

«»der  theSiee  ofll^'^"';f«^  "»  <-P«™»  went, 
^  thrp^^^all^'!^  »Dtyd^.U  work.  = 
r        ^  ui  inj^oiai^istrate ;  if  presence  it  could 


t 


«• 


w 


168 


THE  NE-W  PRIEST. 


be  called,  where  he  sate  with  his  back  broadly  towards 

"  Please  your  wo||||^HHp^he  usheress,  "  it's  Mr. 
Gulpin,  sir ;  wi'  s^^mSrwve  caressed,  most  like,  sir." 

"Directly!"  ap^ered  the  official  voice;  which  then 
proceeded  to  pead  in  a  low  tone,  an^  hastily,  out  of  some 

book  before  him,  "  '  both  houses  ofiuuJi^ent,  and  ' I 

must  look  at  that  again;   severiif!ran3reH  and  l^enty- 
seventh  pag^/*  ,.,        * 

Mean^j^le,  the  constable  leaving  his  charge,  for  a  mo- 
ment, ^ta|i||ing  at  the  stipendiary's  back,  went  out  long 
enougfc^  to%ive  a  message,  of  which  the  last  words  were 
heardj^B  he  enforced  them  : — 

— "  And  mind  ye,  Jesse,  bring  un  along  :  don'i)  come 
without  un;  andj^ome  back  as  quick  as  you  can.'""^ 

The  ermine,  or  other  fur  of  the  ijiagistratej^et  itself 
up  at  this,  and  he  intimated  to  his  subordinate^t  < order 
and  silence  were  necessary  at  that  investig^ion.' — With 
a  lar^ldignity,  hi  ipvited  the  Minister^  who  was  entering, 
to  a  sfeat.  ,       *^  ^ 

Having,  at  length,  received  t^  constable's  return,  he 
proceeded  to  business  by  or(jterin|  that  officer  to  swear 
the  prisoners  at  the  bm-.  QiWm  looked,  yvh^^  twinkling 
eye,  at  his  prisoners,  ^|^  th^'at  the  finagistrate  :-— 

"  What'll  I-swear  'em  to,  Mr.  Naughton  f  "  he  asjked.  , 

*^  "  "^jfe^'^'^  ^  ^^P^  ^^  |!^Poly  Evar^^elistg  hepr,"  said 
the  stf|^ndia,ry.  '   "% 

14?  can  find  Bibles  fa«t  enough,  si 
witnesses."  --*   . 


5^.,the;^*re  not 

"I  ionay  ask  them  some  questlHmB  desire  the[r  an- 
swers t&  |e%inder  the '^solemn  .^lcti*of  an  oath/', an- 
^^^ipP*^   *''»^  magistrate;  but  wheii  Mr.   Urston  had  the 

Sil^refl  yoliime  3beld  ouL  to  him,  he  docidGdly.~obj«cted^ 

t  ■ 


A» 


-<S& 


tjt    •» 


AN  OPnCUL  EXAMINATION. 
insisUng  that  if  he  and  the  others  wen,  there  as  prison 
e-,  they  wem  not  there  as  witnesses,  and  desirin  "Z 
the  accusation  might  be  re«rf   .nj  .t  "esinng  that 

ined.  '  '^^  witnesses  exam- 

The  magistrate  assured  him.  with  dignity,  that  that  was 

not  he  regular  order  of  judicial  proceedij^  but  t^t  1^ 
.    would  waive  the  point.  6  .  "ui  mat  ne 

Having  in  his  own  way,  made  the  prisoners  acquainted 
w«h  the  charge,  he  said,  "There  must  be  a  reZT^, 
proce  ,ngs  of  this  court !    Mr.  Williamson,  y„„  wU  ^ 

mr-ZT^:  """^^  ''"''"*^*  *«  "'"'k,  caUed  "  Jesse 
111    .     Tk,t  there  was  no  answer;  and  he  called  Jes«e 

H,ll  agmn,  and  again  with  no  answer. 
"Isent  him  after  Mr.  Banks,"  explained  Gilpin. 

I  '    %   u       '  ""'  "<*"'■  '^'"-     I'  "ill  l«  mj  duty 

At  this  mom^r.  Naughton  noticed  Father  Debree 
"«"  the  doo,s  a«ded  by  a  shuffling  of  feet  and  a  low 
uz^goj^the  waiting  public.  The  magist™.e  witi 
d  gn,  y  mv,.ed  him  to  a  seat,  but  the  Priest  prefe^d 
standing.  Mr.  milon  attempted  conversation  wUh^' 
new  neighbor,  but  found  him  this  day  so  reserv^o ' 
preoccupied  as  to  give  litUe  enoouragement  to  the  at- 

Mr.  Wellon,  during  the  absence  of  the  constable  was 
entcriained   by  thr  stipendiary  with   an  argumem  f^    - 
having  a  "  lychnoscdtie  "  introduced,  as  a  sacred  accessory 
■nto  the  new  chancel  of  the  church  ;  the  earnest  advocate 
=te  '•ccloMologieal  developmenr  claiming  that  the  thing 


170 


THB  NEW  PRIEST. 


was  80  old  that  its  very  object  and  purpose  were  entirely 
unknown. 

Gilpin,  as  he  returned,  with  Jesse  (and  Isaac)  behind 
him,  said,  in  an  under  voice,  "  I  told  un  not  to  come  with- 
out Mr.  Banks  ;  an'  so  he  stuck  to  his  orders.  I  found 
un  sitting  on  one  rock  and  Isaac  Maffen  on  another, 
neither  one  of  'em  sayin'  a  word." 

The  Stipendiary  now  crowned  his  brow  with  the  awful 
rigors  of  justice  once  more,  and  sat  as  the  chief  figure  of 
the  scene.  The  witness,  having  been  sworn,  was  ques- 
tioned : — 

"  Mr.  Barbury,  proceed.     Are  you  a  witness  ?  " 
"  Is,  sir,  ef  it's  wantun,  I'll  tell  what  I  knows." 
The  noise  of  heavy  shoes  on  the  feet  of  those  of  the 
public  furthest  back  in  the  entry,  testified  to  the  unabated 
interest  with  which  Jesse's  story  was  expected. 
"  What's  your  name  ?  is  the  first  question." 
Jesse  was  redder  than  usual ;  but  he  saw  his  way,  and 
gladly  opened  his  mouth. 

"  Oh  !  'ee  wants  it  that  w'y,  do  'ee,  sir  ?  *  N  or  M ' 
is  what  it  says." 

"  Ha !  youWe  not  much  acquainted  with  legal  proceed- 
ings," said  the  magistrate,  throwing  a  sentence  loaded 
with  about  the  usual  amount  of  oflScial  wit,  of  about  the 
usual  quality,  and  glancing  at  the  Minister  to  see  if  he 
took  the  joke. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  that's  aU,"  said  he  again,  to  the 
simple-minded  testifier. 

"  Jesse  Barbury's  my  name,  sir.  I  sposed  'ee  knowed 
that,  sir ! " 

"  The  Law  knows  nothing,  Mr.  Barbury.  Our  ihfor* 
mation  is  from  the  evidence.  You  will  proceed  with  your 
btory,  Mr.  Barbury." 


''.f:m 


/ 


'/ 

/ 


7/- 


'I  '       *     ' 

AN  OPPIOUL  EXAMINATION. 


Mr,  Barbury  proceeded  as  follot.8,  the  mairistmte  n« 
tensibly  nefflerfino-  tr.  i:«*  ,  "»BgJ8trate  os- 

W  ee  hear,  now,  that.'e  VeBloased  Vs  cjw?- 1  LT^' 

The  magistrate  otBciall^  cleat^d  his  throat  of  ^m, 

.  ntafon  ;  the  Minister  wiped  hi,  face  with  h^s  handZ 

ch,e  ,  a  crcumstance  that  seemed  to  have  an  encou«dr: 

effect  unon  the  witness:     He  went  on  —  """"Ki"* 

"  So  l,il£  'e  says  to  I  agen,  •  No,  sure,'  'e  says  '  did  nn 

then  .Tp«!<5*»  ? '    <  Tc  „        >  t  ""/"j    uia  un, 

mtl  th!!'  ',     "'  ^  '^^'' '  '"'^^  ^^«««^d  she,  surely.' 

1 1..S  moral  reflection  brought  the  Minister's  h«,dker. 

uef  suddenly  to  his  face  again.     The  constable  ZTvM 

'he  saymg  with  less  self-contml,  though  it  wJas  Z  « 

^as  further  off,  commented:  "Wull,  wisdom  is  a  great 
'l"ng :  It's  no  use  I  "-Jesse  continued.  ^ 

Izik,'  I  says  to  un,  agen, '  Izik,'  1  says,  •  do  'ee  think 
now,„„„u„,,,,  ,,„.,,  ^^  bette;  a  lit«e'fu4«rtt'' 

what  ejhowt  sech  a  cow  as  that  might  be  worth. .  I 
"You  must  remember   Mr  f^^^-^>*  •  *  '-. 

X:'r;r  *^  ""^^^^-^^™£ 

not  to  speak  of  the  time  of  the  others  that  are  here." 

Jie  e,now.«ir?"  «iiH.tb^;poorfeHow,getflBr«bM6ed,  r- 


'■ --?    f'^x^'^'Pp'* 


172 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


'"  80  -e  rilust  be,  surely  ;  that's  a  clear  case.     That's  ft'most 
all  I've  agot  to  s'y,  sir." 

"  B^gin  just  where  you're  going  to  knock  off,  Jesse,** 
suggested  the  constable. 

"  Wull,  Mr.  Gilpin,  I  were  goun  tp  tell  about  what  I 
sid  myself."  ,  "^  *  «,  ,  - 

"That's  the  very  thing,"  said  Mr.  Naughton;  "no 
matter  what  you  said,  or  what  was  said  to  you,  you  know." 

With  thpse  directi<^ns,  the  witness  paused  a  little,  hand-*  '^ 
ling  his  sou  wester  (hat).  , 

"  Whereabouts  was  we,  Izik  ?  "  he  asked  of  his  adju- 
tant. 

"  'Ee  was  talkun  about  the  cow,  Jesse,  *ee  was."  an- 
swered Isaac,  anxious  that  Jesse  should  do  justice  to 
himself?         • 

"  Wun,  sir."     Then  the  straightforward  witness  for  the  ♦ 
Crown  began  :    "  I  was  jest  a  sayin  to  Izik,  I  was*" — —' 
'  "Your  observations  and  those  of  your  companion. (or 
finend)    are   of  compa^ativ^y   little    consequence,   Mr. - 
Barbury,"  said  the  magistrate,  who   must  have  had  a  "  ' 
standard  for  estimatijpg  speech.  '': 

"  £[e  means,  he  doesn't  care  what  you  an4  Isaac  said," 
the  constable  prompted.  .     •> 

"  'Is,  sir,  surely.     Wull,  Izik  gays  to  I  "J— ^  ^  * 

"  Never  n^in^  the  sayins,  you  know,"  perygted  the  Non- 
stable^'        --'^  fl^ 

The  witness  looked  like  some  aiiimal  in  an  inclosurfii^ 
but  he  did  hit' upon  ttie  opening  in  it 

"  Wull, -sir,  I  sid  a  some'at  all  in  white  clothes  a  ccnnin'. 
down  Backside-w'y,  (an'  Izik  Maffen,  'e  sid  the  same,  so 
Well ;),  like  a  woman  or  a  mayd,  like,  an'  it  ctomed  i^ght 
along  tull  it  j^ed  right  aw'y,  hfce,  I  doiio  Uow.     1  nfevSr  * 
sid  no  mote  of  it."  # 


T 


^'% 


1   lt> 


..  :  AN  OFFICIAL  EXAMINATION..  ,«« 

f  ■■■.''..  .     .     ■     ,  173  - 

'\I>i<l  yo"  atop  to  look  ?  "  ^     ^  •    / 

';>,  sir,  surely;  I  says  td  Izik,  « Izik/ I  says,  as  s;K>n    " 
as  ever  I  could  speak,^fo^  ^  dumb-founder^  et^tirely, 
first  goun^off,-^  I.ik,' I  says,. ^  pid.'ee  ever  see  We/l 
lT\w  n     .'^';  -re,  Jesse,' he  says,  'how  should 
.    I  ?        Wull   then,'  I  says,  ^  that  was.  a  some'at  looked 
very  hke   one,  seemunly,  to   my  thinkin.'  I  says,  'd 
Lo,.lyr    he  says-that's  hi^  way,  you- know,  sir,!' what 
ave  ab^comed  of  'un?  Jesse,r,he  says.     '  Mubbe'  I  says 
It  wa.s  a  goun  .ome^^ere,  tull  it  aid  wejarf  now  4' 
mlone  a^doun  of  it,:fo.^noti.n:it^-ahad  I  says;  sartainly 
we^pokt  swles,  of  a  Su^ay,  last  spri^g,^  I  says,    « Hows- 
ev*r,  ^say,,  .^^febe  ^ye'd  best  kriick  off  now,' an'  so  wi 

1  Imt  s  ^11  -.the  witness  I  knbws."     *  .      - 

'"You  may  retire;  Mr.  Bafbury;    (unless  any  of  the       . 

Ijnsoners  at  the  bar  desire  to  question  you.") 

..  Tins  privilege  the  prisoners  did  not  claim.  "  *^ 

rh^r^  was  a  monstrous  discharge  of  pent-up  breathy  at 
tthejor^lU,ijp„  of  this^evidence,  stewing  that  a  good       ^ 

man|  of  Je^^e's  friends  were  in  the  passage  commynLt-  ' 
«^e|vveen  the  kitchen  andahe  parlor„Who  felt  that      • 
^I^Sk^f .'"''''"  than, satisfied  the  highest  expectation.       • 

^?i.^'^''^  -^^**"  formed  afooujt  hi^i  testimony;  aitd  h«f 
contn6^.ted  to  the  filnd  of  information  which  the  tnagis-     J 
trate .  was  gathering,  as  wonderful  ah  ingfedipnt  as  any 
that  was  likely  t^  be  produced  that  day.     ^his  friend! 
as  he- modestly  witJ^drew  from  the  blaze  ol"  importance, 
^e  guv(.  the^information  for  ihe  hundredth  time,  perhaps, 
t"at,  .t  was  Friday  evening  tluit;thiB  occurred;  that  he 
'I'^l  4»ot^  l^aiT  tl«>  ap"pariti6n  i  th'&t  jt  did  not  come  witkin    . 
ha.l;  that  "he  shoaldn'l- have  a  know'd  what  to  saj  to 


1^ 


•  t     - — -r 


t» 


41 


Mil 


.     «! 


»^) 


i 


.    ,Jr.,» ,.         *j' 


174 


%s     THE  NEW  PBffiST. 


*f 


«  No  more  'ee  would'ri';  that's  a  sure  case/'  said  Isaao 
Maffen. 

"Any  evidence  as  to  the  credibility  of!  Mr. "  Barbury 
and  his  friend,  wUI  now  be  admissible,"  said  the  magis- 
h-ate,  with  dignity  tempered  by  condescension/ 

"Haw I  H— "  burst  from  the  constable,  very  un- 
timely ;  a  laugh  cut  off  in  the  middle. 

Mr.  Wellon,  at  this  point  withdrew. 
'    ".Call  the  next  witness  !  "  said  the  magistrate,  waiving 
further  interruption. 

<^'  I  dono  how  to  call  un,  exactly ;  I  believe  his  name  is 
Nahthan ;  but  he's  got  an  '  L,'  stuck  before  it,  I  thinks, 
from  the  way  he  spoke  it." 

" L.  Nathan  Banks  !  L.  Nathan  Banks ! "  Gilpin 

called,  making  his  comment  also.  "  Well,  if  that  isn't  a 
way  of  writing  a  name !  I've  sid  L's  and  D's  stuck  ,at 
the  end,  but  sticking  ^m  at  the  beginning  's  noos  to 
me." 

Our  readers  have  seen  the  world  some  days  farther  on 
than  Gilpin  had,  and  are  familiar  enough  with  a  fashion 
of  which  Mr.  Bangs,'  whose  name  happened  to  be  El- 
nathan>  was  quite. innocent. 

Mr.  Bangs  did  not  appear.   "  I  thought  surely  he'd  turn. 
up,  as  he  did  t'other  night,"  paid  Gilpin.     "I  didn't  tell 
un  he'd  be  summonsed ;  but  he's  got  a  sharp  nose." 

"  I  understood  that  Mr.  Wellon  could  testify,"  said  the 
itipendiary. 

"Ay;  but  without  Mr.  Banks  you  can't  weld  the 
evidence  together,  sir." 

"  You'd  best  summon  him ;  and  that  point  can  be  de- 
tepn^ined." 

"  'E'li  just  out  in  Tom  Fielden's  house,"  timidly  sug- 
gested  Ntttlmn,  or  Zebedee,,  09  some  one  of  them,  not 


^ 


Y^B^'^ 


••> 


AN  OFFICIAL  EXAMINATION.  175 

thinking  his  voice  fit  to  intrude  in  bo  awful  a  presence, 

i<^  went  there,  however,  a  bit  sunce." 

"present  my  compliments  to  him  then,  please,  one  of 
you;  'compliments  of  his  worship,  the  Stipendiary  jyfagis- 
trate,  to  the  Reverend  Mr.  Wellon,'  knd  ask  if  he'U 
please  to  step  here  for  a  few  moments." 

The  «  one  "  who  undertook  this  errand  must  have  had 
an  unusual  number  of  feet,  or  of  shoes  upon  his  feet,  if 
one  judged  by  the  multitudinous  clatter  that  followed. 

The  Minister,  on  coming  in  again,  gave  his  short 
account  of, finding  the  little  cap  at  the  Worrell;  and  that 
was  all.     The  stipendiary  spoke :—  « 

"  The  evidence  just  received  may  go  towards  estabhsh- 
ing  the  nature  of  the  crime   by  which  Mr.  Barbury's 
daughter  has  been  assailed ;  but,  in  my  judgment,  it  would 
be  msufiicient  to  fix  the  guUt  with  unerring  certainty  upon 
any  mdividual.  —  I  shall  now  adjourn  the  court."      As 
for    bail,   he    would    say    fifty    pounds    each,   for    Mr. 
Urston  and  his  stjji,;   and  would  consider  them  respon- 
sible for  the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Cnlloran.     «*'The  day 
to.  which  he  had  adjourned  the  court,"  he  sjtld,  "would 
he  appreciated   by   the    persons   chiefly   interested  ;    it 
was  the  fifth  from  that  of  the  Exaltation  of  tl^i   Holy 
Cross,   and  following  that  of  St.  Lam^rt,  Bishop  and 
Murtyr.     In  consideration  of  the  result  of   fb«ipatieht 
and   deliberate   investigation    which    had   affordbd   him 
pecubar  gratification,  he  would   himself  be  responsible 
Tor  the  usual  costs." 

pie  Minister  offered  himself  as  surety,  an(i*  was  at 
Onep  accepted. 

0ilpin,  on  getting  i^tq  the  open  air,  as  he  did  yery 
Bp^dily,  surrounded  by  the  open-moiithed  and  eager 
public,  di4nof  prPv^^nf  hitn«olf  ^mm   .  .vlii...»ing,  (wUJlt 


^^^^^M^H^^^IM 


17B 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


,*3»' 


he  looked  flushed  and  chagrined,)  ''Well,  if  thatHsn't 
law,  with  |i  tail  to  un ! " 

An  irreverent  voice  from  among  the,  public  (strongly 
resembling  Billy  Bow's)  asserted  that  "  The  King  (ef 
'twas  the  king  'isself  that  doned  it)  nlight  as  well  take  a 
squid  or  a  totii-cod  for  a  magistrate,  as  some  'e'd  amade," 
and  then  proposed  "  three  cheers  for  Mr.  ^Charles  Gulpin, 
Constable  of  his  majesty  in  this  harbor  and  the  neighbor- 
ing parts." 

The  cheers  were  begun  lustily,  though  at  Qilpin's  men- 
tion of  Skipper  George's  loss,  they  broke  off,  and  just  as 
they  were  dying  away,  the  door  of  the  Magistrate's  house 
opened,  and  he  appeared,  looking  from  side  to  side,  and 
with  a  modesty  that  sate  gracefully  upon  dignity  and 
authority,  said,  that  "  Words  would  fail  him  to  express  his 
sense  of  the  generous  confidence  of  the  people  of  New- 
foundland; that  he  was  glad  that  his  humble  efforts  had 
met  the  applause  of  his  fellow-subjects,  which  was  next 
to  the  award  of  an  approving  conscience.     He  looked 
with  confidence  to  the  approval  of  his  sovereign.     In 
conclusion,  he  begged  all  present  to  partake  of  a  little 
>poffee,  which  he  had  given  orders  to  have  prepared." 

"  Three  cheers  for  'e's  woshup,  the  Sti-pendery  of 
Peterport " ;  cried  the  voice  ag^n,  "  and  may  the  King 
soon  be  so  well  plased  to  put  un  in  a  berth  better  flttun 
to  his  debilities  I "  Over  this  there  was  more  subdued 
laughter  than  shouting. 


/. 


Meantime  the  sad  loss  was  just  the  sifeae,  and  just  where 
it  was.  The  noble  old  father  whom  they  had  seen  bearing  it 
like  a  hero  a  few  hours  before,  had  cM-ried  home  a  hemvy 


'■    .'      ^  v.: 


AN  OFFICIAL  EXAMINATION. 


177- 


load;  the  gentle  mother  was  heart-stricken ;  the  whole 
company  of  neighbors,  the  moment  they  got  away  from 
the  examination  into  the  open  air,-like  those  who  had 
not^been  at  the  Magistrate's,~bore  a  shai^  of  the  sor- 

^  Billy  Bow  and  others  staid  to  share  I^r.  Naughton'8 
hspuahty;  but  Jesse  Hill  and  Isaac  Maffen  went 
silently  away  m  one  direction,  Skipper  Charlie  moodily 
m  another,  and  many  more  dispersed. 

,,^"^7''^  '^"^'^  ^PP«^»'  Person  Wellon,  as  they  do 
at  home    sa.d  G.lpin,  as  he  went  along  by  himself. 

And  I  hope  they'll  just  let  parsons  be  parsons,  and 
magistrates  magistrates,"  said  a  voice  behind. 

"I  didn't  know  your  reverence  was  so  near;"  Md 
the  constable  ;  «  but  I  wish  they'd  do  something." 

Captain  Nolesworth,  having  had.no  opportunity  of  de- 
hvermg  his  testimony,  Vent  back  to  Bay^Harbor  with 
the  intention   of  making  his  affidavit  there,  before   he 
sailed.    It  wa.  to  be  to  the  effect  that  he  saw  three  fSmales 
m  the  punt  leaving  the  Worrell;  that  one  of  them  was 
supported  as  if  sick,  and  that  there  seemed  to  he  a  fear 
or  strange  unwillingness  to  be  neared,  and  that  a  male 
vou^e    (as   he  judged,  of  some  one   having  authority ) 
calUKl  out  to  "  Keep  on  !  Koep  on  !  Don't  stop  !  "        ^'^ 
Ihis  was  to  be  the  substance  of  the  captain's  evidence, 
";  ^  ^''^'''^^'^'  ^^^king  up  the  harbor.    He  pronounced 
at  the  ,„„e  t,me  an  opinion  upon  the  magistrate,  som...     . 
»^hat  enigmatical,  as  follows  :^ 

"Mr.  Naughton  '11  live  a  good  w^ile,  sir,  I  think,  if  he 
4-<nt  meet  with  an  accident;  that  sort  most  generally 

The  rt*der  may  take  the  captain's  speculations  as  to 
the  stipendiary'^  longevity,  at  what  he  pl.^.^,;  .j.a  ^^y 


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178 


THE  NEW  PBIEST. 


eWilnate  the  captain's  evidence  as  he  thinks  fit;  but  Capt. 

Nolesworth  himself  gave  his  opinion,  as  follows : 

"  Depend  upon  it,  sir,  if  that  punt  is  followed  up,  you'lt 
follow  her  up.  I  wish  I  could  stay  to  see  it  out ;  but  I 
expect  to  be  off  to-morrow.  If  I'd  known  enough  tother 
night,  I'd  have  known  more  of  that  punt,  one  way  or  an- 
other." 

"It  won't  stop  where  it  is,"  said  the  Minister;  «  higher 

fmthbrities  will  take  it  up." 

^It  wont  be  amias  to  lend  a  hand  and  help  along 
itice,  I  think,  at  any  rate,"  said  the  captain.       '  ■' 
■"he  Parson  turned  aside  and  went  in  at  Mrs.  Barry's 


W 


5^JC* 


AN  OLD  SMUGGLER. 


179 


^ 


Chapter  xxl 


X 


AN    OLD    SMUGGLER. 

T  was  not  long  after  the  magistratual  examination 
waa  completed,  before  the  constable  made  his  ap- 

a„daZ';:;."^^-^^"-\^-'^°"-<'^rJei 

"Please,  Mr.  Wellon,"  said  he,  "here's  a  bit  o'  some- 
tlnng  Jesse's  brought;  Skipper  George  found  „n  irX, 
path  by  h,s  house,  this  mornin'.     That's  what  made  an 

I  i  go  b,::;,!""" "-' """"'  ''^- "'  ^^-  ^-o-'^  ^"^^ 

_.  "'E   waa  lyun  jes   this  w'y,  sir,"  said  Jesse;  («  so 

ast  to  un,  e  sa.d  otherw'ys  Uncle  George  wouldn'  ha' 
toolct  notu.  ,0  un,  'e  said,  (didn'  um  I.ik?)  an'  the  string 
cotch  'e's  foot,  sir."  * 

in  Jan'  t^-  T  *  "■'>  ™°""'^  °"  »"  '^'  "-"J  b^"- 
.ng  an  mscnpfon,  rude  and  illegible  enough,  but  which 

Jesse  repeated  verr  glibly  in  his  own  En«U^h. 
"YER  MEAb  IS  SAFE  ANF" 
It  was  determined  that  the  bit  of  wood  was  «  oM- 
i  blade,  and  that  the  meaning  was, 

"  Tour  maid  it  ta/e  tmm^." 
Gilpin  dismissed  the  fishermen  «,d  went;  a,  he  h«] 
been  desired,  into  Mr.  Wellon'.  study. 


IfiO 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


The  writing  upon  the  chip  was  not  the  only  literary 

effort  to  be  scrutinized.      There  had  been  left  at  the 

Minister's  door,  during  the  night,  a  bit  of  .paper  on  which 

.<the  handwriting  bfeihg  better  than  the  spelling  or  syntax) 

was  written  as  follows : — 

"  Thers  som  prodstins  bigen  about  sarchen  that's  not  tp 
Gud  is  niyer  thafie  ar  smuglar  Emunx  thim  id  lik  to  no 
Ef  al  tels  bes  thru— plen  Spakun." 

Gilpin  made  his  way  through  this  much  more  readily 
than  Mr.  Wellon  had  done,  smiling  at  the  word  "  Emunx" 
which  he  said  "  was  one  way  o'  spellin'  it ! " 

What  the  writer  meant  to  have  written,  it  was  con- 
cluded, was, — 

"^There's  some  Protestants  busying  about  searching, 
that's  not  too  good.  Is  {there)  never  (a)  thief  or  smug- 
gUr  amongst  t%em,  Id  like  to  know,— if  all  tales  bes  true  ? 
— Plain  Speaking." 

Gilpin  said,  "  It  was  easy  enough  to  see  what  that 
meant;  it  meant  Ladford,  who  fished  with  Skipper 
George,  and  who  was  said  to  have  been  a  wild  and  des- 
perate fellow  years  ago,  and  to  have  a  price  on  his  head. 
He  had  been  very  active  in  the  search ;  a  quiet  man  that 
kept  back,  as  Mr.  Wellon  no  doubt  had  notieed,on  Saturday.  ' 
But  if  ever  a  man  had  repented  in  this  world,  Ladford 
had  repented,  Gilpin  believed,  and  he  had  been  «  great 
many  years  in  the  country.  Withal  he  ^m  the  very 
handiest  man  in  the  Bay;  could  .work  a  frigate,  Gilpin 
believed,  single-handed,  and  twirl  *her  round  in  her  own 


I, 


length. 


I 


"  As  for  Skipper  George's  daughter,  everylxnlv  knew 
that, Ladford  consider!  her  as  an  angel,  or  something 
more  than  earthly  ;  and  it  was  no  more  to  be  thought  that 
bed  harm  her,  than  that  her  own  father  would..   There 


X 


"wwm"^ ""^^ 


AN  OLD  SMUGGLER. 


was  somothing  between  Ladford  and  Skipper  Georgfe; 
but  whetUer  there  was  a  relationship,  or  what,  nobody 
knew.  ili^' 

This  was  Gilpin's  story  ;^  with  what  Mr.  Wellori 
had  heard  before,  determined  him  t9  find  out  Ladford  and 
Jalk  with  him;  to  give  the  letter  t(?  the  magistrate  just 
then,  was  not  thought  likely  to  further  the  ends  of  justice  • 
nor  was  it  thought  advisable  to  mention  It.  ,        ' 

Captain  Nolesworth's  opinion,  about  the  punt,  seemed 
well  worth  attending  to ;  and  it  was  determined,  if  possible, 
to  follow  it  up.     Messrs.  Worner  &  Co.'s  head  clerk  had 
expressed  ^  willingness,  on  behalf  of  the  house,  to  put 
down  their  names  for  fifty  pounds  towards  one  hundred,  to 
be  ofFered  as  reward  for  finding  the  lost  maiden,_or  one 
half  of  fifty  pounds  for  ^nding  her  body ;    and  it  was 
understood  that  the  other  merchants  of  the  place  (includ- 
lOg  Mr.  O'Rourke,)  would  make  up  the  full  sum.     Un- 
doubtedly Government  would   take   it  up,  if  the  loc^ 
magistrates  could  not  do  any  thing  ;  and  whatever  facts,  if 
any,  should  come  out,  implicating  any  persons  in  the  guilt 
ot   k,dna{>ping  or   abduction,  could   be  laid   before  the 
Grand  Jury.     Ladford's  house,  on  the  southeifc^ide  of 
Indian  Point,  was  the  worst  there,-and  scarcel^ouse. 
Ladford,  himself,  was  of  middle  size,  or  more^  and  up- 
rfght,  except  his  head,    ^e  had  a  hi^h,  smooth  forehead; 
deep-set  eyes,  lobking  as  if  their  fires  were  raked  up  ; 
slender  nose,  and  thin  cheeks  and  lips  ;-the  whole  face 
tanned  by  Hfe-long  expdsur*Uo  the  weather. 

Beside  a  battered  "  sou'-wester,'"  thrown  backward,  his  / 
dress  was  made  up  of  a  shirt  of  bread-bag-stufF,  sewed 
with  oound  twine,  ib  even  sailmaker's  stitches,  anAclean  • 
and  of  jrowsei-s  cut  out  of  tanned  sails,  and  sew^d  as' 
oeatly  m  the  shirt.     Uk  feet  were  bare. - 


.    ^ 


.>  i 


if  i^S"  .' 


% 


182 


THE  NEW  PKIEST. 


I  ^$40b^ 


th«  I,     T^^  "W,S,«|rivate  business  with  you,"  said 

01  me.        <^'^  ^1^ 

''I  oughtn't,  sir,  surely,  of  a  Minister,"  said  Ladford 

No  ;  and  needn't.    rou,see  I  Itnow  something  of  your 

case ;  and  we  should  have  known  each  other,  if  I  could 

We  found  you  before;  for  I've  been  here  two  or  three 

As  he  mentioned  his  fruitless  visits,  a  startling-most 

epuls,ve-leer  just  showed  itself  in  Ladford's  fL;  Z 

disappeared,  as  suddenly  and  wholly,  as  a  monster  that 

2  r™:;P','«>-0  -O  hideous,  to  the  surface  of  the 

«ea^  and  then  has  sunk  again,  bodily,  into  the  dark  Deep- 

and  T  T'  V'  '■    ""^  "^"^  «""^'  ^^^^P'  ft-^  "'e  fe^r' 
Cl  'rl  "\"^'  "  '°''™^  behmd-This  face,  after  that 
ook  had  nothing  repulsive  in  it,  but  was  only  the  more 
subdued  and  sad.  ' 

■  '^'^  «">^  Mft,"""'^  •  ""d  'hen  Ladford  spoke  :- 
Some  men,'«||,e,  "  mu^'n't  keep  upon  their  form  • 
fo-t  won;t  m.  fl»^  to  be  found  byevery  onertat' 
I ™  sorry  you  cam.  fpr  nothing,  sir,  I'd  have  been  here 
IT  1  d  known  you  meant  it." 

and'^reaf  If '''  '"'  ""  "'""''^'"''  "^"^^  '"^^  "^  P^*^'- 

I  r'""""  't^  ''''  "*"'''  "^^^  ^  «^«  ■»«»>';  but 

Lnd™'    "  '       ^^     "'  ^°"  ''"""■  ""^  ""'^^'■o-  <«  " 

in  'h!,!'"''  ";  '"'"  '"'"  ^'""'°''''  "■''o  "M  been  lookmg 
m  hs  face,  and  now  bowed.     "I  don't  blame  any  man 

fellow ;-but  this  does  me  W^ng.      Why,  air!    it  iZ 
Prsr?"'''"'"^^^"^'^^'"*"^'-'"^' 


I 


AN  OLD  SMUGGLER. 


183 


«  Lucy  ?  "  said  the  Miiister,  scarcely  aloud. 
"  No,  sir  ;  it's  another  makes  me  sorry,  —  one  that's 
dead.   Ah,  sir !  I  was  brought  up  to  wickedness,  for  a  trade  I 
Law-breaking,    Sabbath-breaking,   oath-breaking,   heart- 
breakmg,  swearing,  drinking,  fighting,~thirty-six  years  I 
was  among  all  that,  and  more ;  shamed  by  it,  and  hating 
It,  till  I  got  away  from  it— Then,  after  aU,  to  feel  a  devil 
inside  of  you,  that  you've  got  in  a  chain;  and  to  feel  him 
chmb  up  against  the  sides  of  you,  in  here,  before^  you 
know,  and  glare,  with  his  devilish  look,  out  of  Jm  eyes 
and  put  his  dirty  paw  and  puU  up  the  corneR  your 
mouth,  and  play  with  the  tackle  in  your  throat,  and  make 
the  words  come  out  as  you  didn't  mean,  and  then  to  feel 
that  this  fellow's  growth  is  out  of  your  own  life  ! " 

Mr;-  WelloB,-ag..he  looked  at  the  man,  during  this 
speech,  could  see,  in  a  sort  of  fearful  pantomime,  the 
struggle  started  and  stifled  between  the  poor  fellow  and 
his  devilish  beastly  familiar. 

"  But  you  do  get  him  down.  Christ  wiU  trample  him 
under  foot.  The  more  you  need  it,  the  more  help  you 
get ;  '  He  giveth  more  grace,'  "  said  the  Minister  of  God, 
pouring  out  encouragement  to  him. 

"  I  haven't  been  a  man,"  said  the  poor  fellow,  showing, 
by  the  very  words,  that  he  had  never  lost  his  manhood; 

"  I  never  was  a  son,  nor  a  brother,  nor  a  friend ^." 

"  Were  you  ever  married  ?  "  asked  the  Ministec^  '  ' 
"  No  sir  r  never.  I  ought  to  have  been,  and  meant  to 
have  been ;  but  I  wasn't—There's  one  that  knows  that 
story,  if  he  choose  to  tell  it ; "  and  saying  ihis,  Ladford 
looked  at  the  Parson  humbly,  as  if  waiting"  for  further 
question,  and  then  proceeded  :  "  It's  just  about  that  part  ' 
of  my  life  I'll  tell,_if  you'll  please  to  heai: ;  'twas  the 


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184 


TH»  NEW  PMEST. 


p 


•  happiest  and  'twas  the  most  teipble.sad,  and  mournful  in 
it  all.  And  it'll  come  in  very  well  just  now.„  Per- 
haps, you'll  know  me  the  better  when  you've  heard  it  I 
tried  to  do  |ny  duty  like  a  man,  to  bne  thing,  and  there's 
all  that's  left  of  it,"  taking  the  black  ribbon  out  of  a 

Bibl6, « It's  aU  right,— it's  all  right  I  " 

Many  well-bred  people  would  have  been  content  with 
seeing  this  poor  man's  relic,  and  would  have  kept  their 
touch  and,  smell  far  off  from  it ;  but  Mr.  Wellon,  with  the 
senses  of  a  gentleman,  had  a  man's  heart,  and  was  a  nun- 
ister  of  Christ  He  saw  that  the  owner  wished  to  lay  it' 
in  his  hand,  and  he  held  out  his  hand  for  it  and  took  it 
«  That  riband,"  the  story  went  on,  «  used  to  be  about  a 

little  boy's  neck;  a  pretty  little  fellow : like  this  Lucy ; 

very  like  I— It  isn't  likely  that  he'd  have  been  a  wonder- 
ful scholar,  lijce  her,  but  oh!  as  pretty  a  Uttle  fellow  as 
ever   God  made  to  grow  in   the  world.     He  was  so 
straight !— and  he  stood  right  up  and  looked  in  your  face ; 
as  much  as  to  say,  *  Do  you  know  Gk)d  ?  Well,  I  belong 
to  Him.'  There  I There  1  "-^d  poor  Ladford,  over- 
come with  what  he  had  been  saying  and  thinking,  and 
falling  down  on  himself,~hi8  breast  on  his  Bible  and  his 
head  between  his  knees— and  giving  two  heaves  of  his 
body,  forward  and  back.     He   then  raised  himself  up 
again;   and,  as  his  hearer,  of  course,  said  nothing,  he 
began  again,  when  he  was  ready:     "Sis  hair  was  as 
thick  and  sohd,  as  if 't  was  cut  out  of  stone  ;  and  his  lip  had 
such  a  curl  to  it,  just  like  the  6rest  to  a  wave  ;--you 
know  Lucy's,— it  was  much  the  same.    I- can't  tell  you  his 
eyes.     You  could  look  into  'em,  and  wouldn't  think  there 
was  any  bottom  to  'em.     It  seemed  as  if  you  could  look 

miles  into  'em Oh  1  that  boy  1 "  he  exclaimed,  in  such 

an  intense  sort  of  way  as  might  have  fixed  one  of  the 


..^ikoi^i^^ 


AN  OLD   SMUGGLEK. 


185 


vtLt!!  ^*'"^^'^^^«^  «°<ide%  appealed  to  hi. 

«  You  W%t  tired  of  hearing,  Mr;  Wellon  ?  » 
"No,  no." 

.  "0'''.'h«*— 1    He's  gone  I ^d  'tww  Urf. 

hand  I  this  very  hand 1»  iwas  tins 

_  The  voice  was  one  of  sorrow  and  not  of  remorse :  but 
having  m  mind  the  wild  life  that  this  man  h«i^  Z" 
perhaps,  having  his  heart  fdl  of  the  child  that  had  ZZi 
a  mom^en^before,  to  be  paying  close  by  them,  Mr.  S 

"  Whj,  what  did  you  do  to  him  ? "      v  '- 

"Oh  I  no  I  not  80  bad  as  that—Not  worse  than  I  am 
hough,"  said  Ladford,  the  ihdignant  voice  chZingl^ 
self-reproach;  "b.ut  I  couldn't  haye  hurt  Mn^^^i 
was^unk,  and  I  never  was  drunk  in  my  life.^       ^  ^ 
Whose  child  was  it?  "  asked  the  clergyman. 
The  smuggler  looked  at  him,  with  a  start,  and  an. 
swered  instantly,--  »««n,  ana  an- 

"  He  was  God's  child  I  " 

JJhsZ"^"  ""  '"^  '""^^  ""«'"<"''  ""J  ■»«  being 
asked,  he  again  went  on  where  he  had  left  off— 

\      ^  •«*  him  to  the  eharch  myself  on  this  arm  and 
^«  real  good  ChrisUans  were  god^athJr  and^oT^th" 
%  the  poor  mother's  sak.     I  was  over  in  the  ^^l 

Thev  did  w.  k-      J      ,  "^''  *°  *  manner. 

ZX I  '  ^^^y-Po^r  motherless,  fetherles. 

"  Wiiy,  what  became  of  the  mother  ?  " 

"  Oh  1  ahe  died.     NaturaUsf,  'he  diedr  answered  A. 
tftiiigylpr  ah,ir;„^  1.!..  h^aii  „„j  ,^   «»«^«>    answered  the 


f 


€■: 


**'^^***"e  «w  neaft  and  looking  down. 


«I  can't 


J. 


186 


THE  NEW  PRIESf. 


w 


.  >  r.  •  ■ 

talk  about  her,  sir— but  the  boy  growed ;  and  the  sea,  that 
had  had  so  much  wickedness  done  on  it,  got  that  boy.** 

« I  thought  he  never  came  near  it,"  said  the  Parson, 
much  as  if  he  thought  that  he  could  save  it  aU  yet,  and 
keep  the  pretty  boy,  by  thrusting  in  an  impossibiHty  made 
of  words. 

«  Poor  Ladford  looked  mournfully  at  him,  and  wistfully, 
almost  as  if  he,  too,  half  hoped  that  it  might  not  all  be  as 
it  was,  and  then,  glancing  at  the  black  ribbon,  continued 
his  story : — 

■ «  He  never  did,  sir ;  but  it  got  him,  just  as  much  as  if 
it  had  a  great  rope  of  seaweed  fast  to  him  and  dragged 
him  in.  One  day  when  I  was  going  down  the  cliff,  think- 
ing of  nothmg,  what  should  be  there,  like  a  beautiful  bird 
or  a  butterflj^  on  the  path,  but  that  handsome,  handsome 
boy  I  I  was  cbnfused  and  mazed,  like,  I  suppose.  It 
was  so  strange  to  see  him  there  fl  don't 'kiwyw  if  he'd 
ever  been  told  not  to  oome  to  the  sea ;  but  he'd  been  kept 
about  home ;  and  when  I  saw  him,  if  I'd  only  once  had 
the  thought  to  speak  to  him ;— but  I  hadn't'  I  was  fijght- 
ened»  I  suppose,  and  I  put  out  my,  hand  to  save  hidjlpst 
this  way—and  that's  aU.  That  was  the  Ikst  ^Ufas 
known  of  that  beautiful  child,  alive.  There's  my  mark," 
said  Ladford,  showing  the  lower  half  of  his  lefe  arm  with 
a  knob  on  it,  where  it  might  have  been  feroken. 

« Ah  !  that's  a  bad  breik.  That  was. broken  in  more 
than  one  place,  or  it  hadn't  good  surgery,"  said  Mr. 
Wellou. 

"You  know  about  surgery,  sir  ? '*  said  the  smuggler. 
"It  was  broken  more  than  once ;  but  I  think  the  surgeon 
did  his  best     I  went  over  the  cliff,  too.'*  / 

**  And  the  child  was  lost  and  you  saved,  though  all  the 
probability  was  the  oAer  way.** 


'  «^  •* ,      "  "WHH  P'  ■^SEJ'S5'JJW^f^g|? 


AN  OLD  BMUGOLEB. 


187 

rifeht  down  to  hia  death.     TheJ^^^^iL  k     "*"' 

^e.,whe.  «;ey  buried  hin,„TCp4r;t'a„'2 
«U  Ins  dear,  biased  beauty  waa  gone  away  ont^  Z 
worW,  and  whether  it  took  «,.e.Lg  o7^:;iefl 
don.  know,  but  there  isn't  such  «  briehtne^  11 
leave.,  or  grass,  or  any  where.    I  ^.rjfT^,  7  ^ 
and ;  it  went  do*n  with  Me  tad  Z^  ^^^  l""^ 

fuUhirig,  that  it  wasn't  m«  foi;  *    ^'  '*  *  °*^'^*^ 

6,  wmi,  u  wasn  t  me  taken  away  without  e'er  ».   - 

Mnd  or  a  word  r«sed  up  I-B-iv  pLon  wlC V 

daughter,  pod  only  knows  what  I'd  give  to  be  the  i 
to  find  i.er!_I  owe  Geo^^BarburyVe'.  bl«Ki.  3 
more  !_0nly  one  thing  besid^  j  ^  ?„.„         '"^  "* 

The  Minister  waited,  but  Ladibrd  «ided  »>thiag.     / 
I  hen  that  brought  you  up  ?  » 
"!«.<«  brought  up  at  last,  but  ifWas  years  flnt     T 
.opped  many  »  b*i  thing  being  done  b/shipnf.ts  J 
J.ndsn,e„  after  that,  and  at  tast  r knocked  rfghT^  " 
W  a  house  and  a  ^en  and  a  filing  boat,  an^d  iZJt 
to  sell  the  whole  of  'em,  and  give  awar  th«  m„»    T  ' 
-e*i„g  ^,  but  they  got  Z  .  ZZ^tl^^^^^ 
ong  after  I'd  given  up,  and  just  wh*„  I  was  Xt^ 
to  do  some  good  after  aU  my  bad,  «Kl  so  I  got  awL  ,!j  > 
came  off,  and  the  neighbor  know  what  I't  ZI'.^ 
I  ve  been  in  this  country."  ^        " 

jj!"^™"''  rZ^^o'  honest  labor,  I  hope,  no, 
"<«'  J'°«  «ro  ..peuuug  ?  ■■  asked  Mr.  Wenon;W^estto^"^ 


A-^;.-,,r^'^;*'-*rA' 


188 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


-A    / 


being  one  that  might  be  suggested  very  naturally,  by^yw^ 
appearance  of  the  former  smuggler's  house  and  dress.        x^ 

"JNo,  sir ;  I  do  a  man's  work,"  answered  the  smuggler • 
"perhaps  more."  / 

«  But  you  don't  drink  "—  ■    / 

«  And  yet  I  live  in  that  wretched  place,  and  dress  like 
a  convict,  you  might  Bay,"  answered  Ladford  with  a  quiet, 
sad  smile,  drawing  the  contrast  in  words,  that  the  Minis- 
ter had,  most  likely,  in  his  thought. 

**  For  a  man's  work  you  can  get  a  man's  wages,  can't 
you  ?  " 

«  That  wouldn't  follow  in  mjf  case,"  said  the  poor  exile; 
«butIdo."  ,  -. 

Mr.  Wellon  understood  the  sentence  and  replied— 
"But  certaiply,,any  body  that  employed  you  would  pay 
you?"     ,  /  .     i 

«  Not  so  surely ;  but  I'm  laying  up  wages  in  one  place, 
I  hope.  I  live,  and  all  I  can  do  in  a  day's  work,  is  for 
others,  and  I  hope  I'm  laying  something  by." 

Just  as  Mr.  Wellon  was  leaving  him,  a  voice  was 
heard  from  above,  in  the  little  woods,  and  Ladford  an- 
swered— 

"Ts.  I^  a  comin'^  111  be  with  'ee  in  short,  and 
bear  a  hand  about  that^chumley."  And  so  entirely  had 
he  taken  the  words  and  way  of  the  country,  that  he 
seemed  almost  another  man. 

His  story  had  not  been  a  very  complete  one ;  but 
there  seemed  to  be  a  tie  that  bound  Ladford  to  Lucy's 
&ther,  or  herselfi  through  that  boy.  and  the  boj^s  mother. 


"i^  t,^  J     mLa  te4£&i2i'*»^'-  '_s  ^  ^H^t . 


i».    t>^^-*'       ^Mi' 


:ihi^M..Mi  ^iu- 


'-(? 


-^ 


i   / 


# 


»     -. 


O, 


TWO,  WHO  BtAVE  MET  BEFOBE. 


189 


\ 


CHAPITER  XXn. 
AN  nrrERTiETr  of^  Jo  who  hate  met  befobe. 

too  long  forget  «,m4  of  ottr  cUef  cl»racte«.     Pan- 
ny  Dar^  who-  saw  most  of  Mra.  Barrt,_i„deed 
2  one  who  knew  her.  pould  not  but  see  the  change' 
which  a  htde   while  ha^  made  in  hor,   for  she  wS 
chan^i    There  we«  tea.  oftener  in  her  e^  Z 
fta„  before,-  and  they  w.^  formerly  not  seldom  the.! 
Her  cheek  was  something  thmnerand  mortpale:  there 
was  a  fixed  and  intent  look  m  her  eye  wheVsi,  was 

«poke,-,f  h«.  thoughts  were  not  apparently  abstracted,- 
,    r?.  "^^  '^  *■*"  ""^  **"»«'  *^  it  seemed^  if 

If    .  r?  """^  "**  '  "^  ■»«•"•    Yet  *he  was 
gentle  and  tender.  ,, 

Thetis  was  a  wakeftlness  about  her,  as'if  she  were  ever 
fearing  or  expecting  something,  and  she  had  that  expre,. 
»n,  whch,  toH^e  best  he.„is,  is  most  touchmg^  J^ 
b«n.an  fi^,  no^>,f  askingTpity,  butof  ne^lingl  H^ 
e?  grew  fuUer,  as  heX<*eet  became  more  thin  »d  X 
It  IS  Teiy  toachmg  toV  k  to  whom  life  is  so  earaest 
and  senous  a  thing,  as  it  ^denUy  was  to  Mrs.  B^. 
(there  was  no  trifling.  „r  pW%r  idleness  with  her ;)  »d 

"f  «g^  now  unforgettingLy  ^»=. 


v^^  q"'te  aa  torching 


Acmyt^^^^-^"^^^^^  T  "^  PoyJin'orgettingLy  .she. 


IT'C 


im 


190 


THE  NEW  PBIEST. 


It  was  on  Monday  evening  that  she  sat  in  her  chamber, 
whose  window  looked  to  the  west,  and  gazed  upwiird  into 
the  sky.  Her  smooth  forehead,  whose  clear  brows  were 
bared  by  the  falling-back  of  her  dark  hair,  and  her  large 
eyes  fixed,  made  her  a  fit  figure  for  th^  silent  time. 

Miss.  Dare  sat  hear  her.  n. 

Before  them  both  hung  one  bright  star,  in  air ;  and  on 
,  the  earth  was  the  still  land  and  water ;  and  ftur  off,  the 
inland  hills,  which,  at  this  distance,  and  in  this  waning 
light,  and  standing  in  a  Iwid  as  unknown  as  if  it  were  yet 
undiscovered,  look  like  a  rim  of  some  happy,  hidden  val- 
ley. . 

Mrs.  Barr^  had  never  opened  her  mystery,  further,  to 
herr  friend ;  nor  of  course,  had  Fanny  sought  to  look  into 
it ;  only,  tliat  there  was  something,  was  understood  be- 
tween them. 

Mrs.  Barrd  iHroke  the  thoughtful  silence,  saymg, 
'' Sometimes  what  I  am  striving  and  hoping  for  seems 
as  hopeless  and  unattainable  as  the  star  that,  the  child 
reaches  after."  (Such  was  the  bright  star  shining  down 
,vto  thejQd)  mildjiy  as  it  had  shone  so  many— -countless 
mapy— nights  si^ce  first  this  world  knew  darkness.) 
"And  yet,"  she  added,  « auguries  are  nothing.  The  faith 
of  our  best  wisdom,  and  clearest  conscience,  and  simplest 
trust,  is  right  I "  , 

So  she  spoke,  in  faith  ;  Imd  so  God  heard,  who  orders 
all  things.  There  are,  to  us,  no  gates, — ^the  "gemina 
somni  port»," — through  one  of  which  fleet  disregarded 
hopes  and  prayers  unheeded ;  while,  through  the  other, 
go  glad  prayers  accepted  and  bright  hopes  to  their  fulfil- 
ment ;  and  yet'  in  our  day,  as  of  old,  one  strong  wish  forces 
its  way  through  rugged,  rocky  soil,  grows  up  firom  sturdy 


|:^\ 


>.t..« 


^-WM 


M 


TWO  TOO  tt^VB  MET  BEFORE.  j^j 

« a^d  o^ike  the  .„^:^Lei«  ^Thf  ::r:s 

door,  a„f  Z«  ht  hS  *"'"«''  ""  ««*«> «»  *• 

like''  „ee't  M^B J^Mr  H  '"""^"'""*'' '»"'  "-" 
n.igl.t  please  to  set"  "'""""'  "  ""^  '™«  "^o 

of  my  own  house."  "*^'  appomtments  out 

^Jffs  .  CathoUc  prasu,"  «rid  the  „e«enger,  .Imoet 
"Who  is  he?  "she  asked. 

'*  And  what  is  your  own  name  ?  » 
"  Froyne  is  raj  name." 

"  Yes ;  then  hare  the  kindness  to  say  that  I  •«.  .♦ 
home  now  unA  i^irr^^**    u        ,  •'      "'  1  am  at 

0'clo.k."  ^  ""^  »*  ■■»«"=  '^'"O""'.  fill  three 

The  man  turned  on  his  h«#»l  o«^  -.•*!. 
o-wkwan,  eere^ony  de^rtl"'  "'  "*  "  ""«"«'<«" 

"■  ""'^  -^^  "^0"*  »  few  n.omen^  where  sh.  ' 


w 


4 


.fair 


/',' 


1 


a 


in 


THE  ^W  PRIEST. 


was,  went  up  stairs  to  her  seat  opposite  the  bright  star, 
taking  Fanny's  hand  and  holding  it.  Presently  she  spoke 
of  the  appointment  she  had  just  made,  and  hoped  that 
Fanny  Dare  might  be  in  the  house  when  the  meeting 
took  place.  They  both  started,  Jts  again  a  man's  dark 
figure  came  upon  the  green;  Mrs.  Barre,  clasping  her 
M     hands,  turned  away*  to  the  wall. 

^  knock  was  heard ;  not  long  nor  loud,  but  even,  reg- 
ular, decided;  the  work  of  a  hand  whose  weight  was 
Exactly  known. 

"  I  didn't  expert  him  to  be  on  us  so  soon,"  said  Fanny 
Dare;  "whatshaUIdo?" 

*f  Just  stay  here,  if  you'll  be  |p  good.  Don't  go  further 
off/;  there's  a  good  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Barr^. 

/"  But  it'i^  almost  the  same  thing  as  being  in  the  same 
r<Jom,"  said  Fanny,  in  a  whisper. 
I  Mrs.  Barre  was  too  occupied  to  answer,  and  the  servant 
announced  a  gentleman  to  see  her,  waiting  in  the  parlor 
below. 

Mrs.  Barrd  came  to  the  door  of  the  room,  pale,  and 
earnest,  and  straightforward,  as  she  always  was  in  all 
thingb ;  but  as  she  paused  upon  the  outside,  so  on 
first  entering  the  room,  the  door  of  which  she  did  not 
shut  entirely,  she  paused,  with  her  sight  fixed  upon  the 
floor. 

When  she  raised  her  eyes,  she  found  the  gentleman 
standing  respectfully;  it  was  Father  Nicholas.  In  the 
light  of  the  candle,  which  marked  distinctly  the  well-cut 
outlines  of  his  features,  and  threw  the  deep  lines  and 
hollows  into  shadow,  he  looked  more  handsome  and 
thoughtful  than  even  by  day.  His  simple  blapk  dress 
was  just  as  fit,  and  seemed  as  much  to  belong  to  him  as 
hia  smooth,  shining  cassock  or  soutane. 


^>i^i.£kf 


^'*'"^*>  *>   "^ 


TWO  WHO  HAVE  MET  BEFORE. 


i9d 

Mr..  B.«4  started,  but  ei«d.  i„,t.^Uy,  ay.^  _  ^ 
guest  m  my  house,  Mr.  Cnunpton  »  ^"n  «re  no 

^^He  stood  meeUy  „d  ^^^tru,;,,,^^  ^^  ^  ^^ 

«:iS:t^:d;:tix^^"""-"^ 

-ance,  «,d  leiTthan  a  rkht  7.,    .^         ""  "'  '"""^^ 

"rati.'  nr  ^"-'"--— :  t^^^^^  '"^ 

J  Not  now  but  very  likely  hereafter.    I  think  you  ,^ 

.k^lZ!,T  '"fP  '■"^S'"  ^id  Fanny  Dare.     « I 
"ish  I  had  been  deaf ;  I  can  be  dumb." 

Ihey  sat  long  silent,  and  she  held  M™.  Ban*'.  h«A 
Mrs.  Bar,*  sat  fcng  after  Fanny  had.gZh^^    ^ 


m^i 


As 


^ 

' 

.1*'"         *:. 

'  f     '    - 

■       " 

\\  4 

VOL.  I. 

V 

18 

A                    ^ 

- 

•« 


ki£i^l.\U 


f       '■ 


194 


THSr  NEW  PBIKftt. 


**•'  "wi 


CHAPTER  Xxni.        c 

VATHER  DBBBEE   AT   BAT-9A.BB0It.  • 

AY^HARBOR  is  a  town  of  some  importance  in 
Conception  Bay ;  and  quite  a  place  of  trade^d 
business.  It  is  also  the  ^hief  town  of  a  district, 
as  i«spe6ts  the  Roman  Catholic 'Church;  and  the  chief, 
clergjonan  pf  that  denomination  officiating  in  Bay-HarbOT 
is  superior  in  rank  and  title  to  the  others  in  tha*  disfaict. 

At  this  time  the,  Romish  clergy  there  were  the  Very 
Reverend  Father  O'Toole,  the  Reverend  Father  Dunne, 
(abseht  for  some  months,)  and  the  Father  Nicholas,  whom 
atn  reader  has  already  met 

The  elder  priest  had  been  for  a  good  many  y^urs  at 
Ba^'-Eforbw,  and  Was  generally  liked  and  thou^t  of,  as 
e^isy-going^  Igood-natured  men  are  apt  to  be.  Hfe  h^ 
the  reins  of  discipline  gfently  ;  had  been,  until  quite  lately, 
a  frequent  visftor  in  Protestant  families,  and  had  made  a 
present  pf  his  hor^  to^the  Prot^estant  clergyman. 

The  nature  of'  Father  Nicholas's  position  ^erfe,  or  con- 
nection with  the^mission,  was  not  very  ewdent  By  short 
and  frequent  steps  he  irad  Bsade  his  way  into  the  very 
midst  of  every  thing;  had  got  Father  O'Toole's  right 
Upid,  as  it  were,  in  his ;  while  the  latter^had,  for  the  last 
few  mqntl^,  (since  the  withdrawal  of  the  priest  who  had 
been  associated  witli  himself  for  years,  and  who  was  ex- 

4 


\ 


.     'f™  «^»  'JMOT  AT  BAT-HABBOB,  jgj 

mucji  or  h«  «>™  w<*k  md  auU„rtty,  that  it  miX  ha^. 
M3  thought  u,  be  «  Tmnge^ew  that  he  Iik«L"  ! 
f&ph.  thought  the  new  «,mer  to  haye  fe^'en  »„7^' 

m  h6,k6i>fi  record  of  ^veiy  thbigdone  and  said  ft^  A. 

to™  a  pUce  of  great  coBaeguence  in  the  world  )  ^ 
that  the  Court  of  Borne  wa«  kKn>  >.~  1    1     .f''~^^   • 
every  thmg  ftat.^ianspired,  and  a  gSod  deal  m6«.     It 
was  agreed  that  hia  father  had  been  once  aleXt  to 

'  .^^^T'^*™"*  i»  Cadi^  «.d  that  Fath^^^,^ 
bad  been  brought  up  in  SprfS:  ^KOomr 

Some  Protestants  said  of  him  that  it  was  not  likely 

.   *'"».««"/h-taIentswouldbeJ«,pti„thes<«rf 
obscunty  that  even- Bay-Harbor  n^ust  be  conjd^  "l 

ably  a  kind  of.  banMhn,en|i  Micted  *  aUowed  by  his 
superiors ,  but  other  Protitants  nuuntaiSed,  in  oLd 
uon,  tha^ather  Nichoh«   was  3sted  „uXl'w 
»  fUn.fon  a«i  authority,  and  tlJlf w.?*  ±^  ^ 
P«^Jud,oe  onlf  that  attributed  to  the  Ch«W=h  of  i^ 

^^ta„^..-*«rdingly  show^JpartiX^on  te  ttt       ■ 

His  own  character  gave  jK>  more  enconraganent  !»■  one 
sup™  than  te.  another,  but  might  tCoTeil:^"      - 

ZseSm^.*^*"  •"  extreme,  .t  times,  in' his-jnterf:  ■ 
«2  e  w,U^  lad.es  or  men  of  intelligefe,  he  was,  some- 

Highly  educat<!d  and  studious,  a^he  was  thoughtV^ 
he  ^  not  iree  fix.m  a  ped^try.  (or  affel^;^   I 
"^.)  ig  flpaTBriMtiaii.    Then.  WM  aumjMirbi.hifcwi'- 


■iU 


'i 


-  A 


— *—  - 


\  '■■■■ 


^>r 


^flpl^"^ 


196 


THE  NEW  PRIEST.v 


K 


antithesis  about  him ;  he  allowed  himself  often'in  a  remark, 
whose  freedom  betrayed  his  familiarity  with  the  ways 
and  wisdom  of  the  world,  or  whose  sarcasm,  bitterness,  or 
even  venom  showed  the  cheap  estimate  at  which  he  iield 
men ;  -while,  on  'the  other  hand,  he  would  utter,  habit- 
ually, lofty  principles  q{  virtue,  and  warm  and  moving 
arguments  for' truth,  and  quoted  (in  their  own  language,) 
the  offices  of  the  Church  and  the"  authorized  Scriptures, 
veyy  fre<]juently  and  with  great  solemnity. 

It  was  curious  to  see  the  influence  of  his  new  associate 
upon  the  plain  old  Father  Terence.  Nominally  and 
ostensibly  at  the  head  •of  the  clergy  of  the  district,  and 
enjoy mg  the  title  of  Very  Reverend,  he  put  the  other 
forward,  very  often,  or  allowed  him  to  put  himself  for- 
ward, both  in  doing  and  counselling,  in  a  way  which 
proved  his  own  indolence,^  or  the  intellectual  or  other 
superiority  of  the  younger  man.  *  ' 

In  one  respect  the  influence  of  the  younger  upon  the 
elder  was  amusingly  exhibited;  the  worthy  Father 
Terence,  having  resumed  his  studies,  and  making  a  point 
of  quoting  Latin  and  also  of  discoursing  etBics  and 
logic  when  the  presence  of  Father  Nicholas  tempted  him. 
He  also  prevented  the  recognition  of  his  Own  precedence 
to  fall  into  desuetude,  by  asserting  or  inferring  it,  not 
seldom. 

>  Father  Nicholas,  for  his  part,  proclaimed  his  own  sib- 
ordina^n. 

So  matters  stood  in  Bay-Harbor,  at  the  time  of  our 
story,  and  to  the  house  in  which  the  two  priests  lived,  not 
far  from  the  chapel,  we  are  now  to  bring  our  reader. 


It  must  have  been  about  seven  o'clock,  on  the  Tuesday 
^•morninj|,  that  Father  Debree  was  leading  thg  horae  from 


■rvTf-^  vfTjfpwrfrai!^ 


T  "  T  ^^  » -^  t-K"*^  Iff^ 


"T^f 


vf 


THE  NEW  PBIEST  AT  BAT-HABBOB.  197 

which  he  had  just  diamounled,  into  the  premises  of  th, 
Epman  Catholic  mi,8ion-st  Bay-Harbor.  *' 

Ah!  thia,  it's  the  early  birf  catches  the  (ox"  cried 
a  good-natured  voice  from  Shove.  "  Can  «)■>?• 
scne  puce  a  bit  ?  an'  ru  be  with  ye,  di^^^  "^  '^ 
^  WhUe  the  utterer  of  the  proverb  was  coming,  or  pre- 
panng  o  come,  the  dismounted  hor^man  loofcti  aC 
for  the  "«,m«T,lace"  at  which  to  hitch  his  horse  a  thin. 
;rr"^  sought  than  found.     Posts  th  r  T; Von  * 

tened  to  the  paling  near  the  road. 

the  door,  « and  ve  havpn'f  fi,„*      •  i.      ^     •  mrougn 

but  I'm  ^lad  to  see  vl  ■•  i    tl  Tf  1  "^ '"''  ■*•»"' 
gwu  to  see  ye,   it  addjid  heartily,  as  Father  De- 

bree  ca       up  into  the  door  and  received  a  vet  hosl^ 
table  .shake  of  the  hand.  ^       '^ 

Terence '?saT!r  '"'■  """"^  "  "-^aaonable,  Fathe; 
earl^"'^  '  ™""'-      "  ^ou  didn't  expect  me -so 

'-Ah,  brother,  if  ye  do  ever   be   placed   in   «  con- 
lleilr  -".-ntinyally,  continyaUy,— but 

nit^'J^ir"."'  'k"'  ^''""='  Te,«nce  had  gone,  with  dig- 
n.  y.  ^hd  and  substantial,  before  his  guest  into  the  parlor. 

bUek  or  colored  ;  it  did  not  fit  him  very  handsomely  •  WM     ' 
^^^yog^and^indee^  h.^.ho  ,pp.ar.J  J  __._ 


snmenilng  oth(^  than  a^pajr  of  trowsers. 


'-pfrj 


198 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


His  stockings  were  not  m"  conspikjis  "  ;  being  one  of 
gray  and  one  of  black-mixed,  very  indulgently  pulled  on 
and  ci*owded  into  two  slippers,  (not  a  pair,)  of  which  one 
had  the  appearance  of  being  a  shoe  turned  down  at  heel, 
and  the  other  was  of  quite  an  elegant  velvet,  though  of  a 
shape  somewhat  wider  than  is  elegant  in  a  human  foot. 
He  had  a  long  black  coat  opening  downward  from  a 
single  button  fastened  at  the  neck ;  and  on  his  head  a 
close  fitting  cotton  nightcap  coming  down  cosily  about  two 
good  thick  cheeks  and  tied  below  his  chin. 

The  face  for  all  this  body  was  plain,  bilt  kindly-look- 
ing ;  the  eyes  being  narrow,  the  nose  longish  and  thick, 
and  the  mouth  lai^e ;  the  upper  lip  appearing  to  be  made 
of  a  single  piece,  and  the  lower  one  looking  as  if  it  were 
both  strong  and  active. 

The  chin  in  which  the  face  was  finished,  was  a  thick, 
round  one,  which  underneath  had  a  great  swelling,  like  a 
capacious  receptacle  in  which  for  years  had  been  a'cciN 
mulating  the  drippings  of  a  well-served  mouth.  His 
forehead — now  partly  covered  by  the  nightcap,-:— if  not 
remarkably  high^  had  an  open,  honest  breadth. 

"  Take  a  chair  1  Take  a  chair,  then,"  said  the  host, 
seating  himself.  ^ 

"Now,  brother,"  said  the  nightcapped  head,  bowing 
with  dignity,  *'  I  think  we've  made  a  beginning." 

"I've  hurried  you  too  much,  Father  O'Toole,"  said  the 
younger.  "  I  cin  wait  here,  very  well,  until  you're  ready 
to  come  |k>wn." 

"Amn't  I  downy  thki,"  asked  Father  Terence,  con- 
clusively. "  Do  ye  mind  the  psalm  where  it  says  '  /Va«- 
venerunt  oculi  met,  diluculo,  ut  meditarer  ? '  " 

•*  £xouse  me,  Reverend  Father  Terence,"  said  a  third 
voico,  ^  yoa  nevef^  fety^  the  Uai'uew  off      -"- 


"*  ; 


THE  NBfWsT  «  BAT-HABBOB. 


199 


mg,  but  gla„cu,g  complaeently  at  Father  Debree— . 

iJtil,  continued  the  Sewsjomer,  "your  impatienee 
0  obey  the.call  of  duty  has  pre.en.UyL  taTgT™ 
0  make  your  toilef  AUow  me  b>  take  your  Z!™ 
(ar  a»  I  can,  m  entertaining  my  old  neighbor  and«^^ 
wh,Ie  you  allow  yout^elf  a  littl,  of 'that  time  S 
you  may  reasonably  bestow  even  upon  so  insigmfi«^t 
an  object  as  dress."        '  "B^ncant 

Father  Terence  had  evidently  not  bestowed  a  thoiight 
upon  so  mstgniticant  a  thing ,  and  glancing  downwal  a 

Z  unl  l  ;•  "'^''  ^""'"'^  0^"  "'  ''»«i  »d  get- 
tmg  up,  made  h.s  retreat  with  a  convenient,  if  somewhat 
.rrelevan^  clearing  of  his  th™.t,  and  .  L  Tnwli^ 
d,g„,ty  bore  „p  b™vely  against  discomposure. 

Father  Nicholas  was  not  liable  to  censure  on  the  score 
of  having  neglected  his  dr^ss;  for  nothing  could  impZ 
one  „,th  .  sense  of  tho^ughness,  more  perfecUy  ZTi. 
whole  pe,.onal  appearance,  blaek,-somewhat  glll- 
from  h„  .h^at  down  to  the  floor;  contested  al^Ae 
"•  ddle  by  his  two  white  hands,  (of  which  one  glistened 
w..h  a  ..gnet-ring,)  .„d  relieved  above  by  the  ^  "f 
ow,sh  face,  with  it,  high  forehead,  and  Jk  shi^ g^' 
.nd  the  emphatic  determined  mouth.     Ab^ve  the^' 
"gain,  .t  wa.  gl,«y,  ,„y,  bUck  h«r,  cut  short,  ^ 
no  tonsure  was  apparent  * 

As  Father  Debree  made  no  motion,  «,d  gave  no  sim 
of  nofcng  his  presence,  he  addreMed  him.Tn  a  IZ 
way.  wuhout  committing  him«,.f  to  too  great  warmth  It 


)/- 


fa'jgel  to' mass  even." 


200 


THE  NEW  PBIESTi 


f 


il 


K 


i  So  saying,  he  held  out  a  friendly  hand,  which  the  other 
took,  without  any  show  of  friendliness. 

Father  Nicholas  spoke  again  :  "  I  believe  they  found 
no  evidence,  whatever,  against  the  Urstons  in  the  exam- 
ination, yesterday  morning?"   . 

At  this  point,  solid  steps  were  heard,  bringing  Father 
Terence  back.  "  «  Bonum  est  viro,  cum  portaverit  Jugum 
ab  adolescentia  sua,  "  he  was  saying. 

"  What  a  treasure  to  have  a  mind  so  stored  with  sacred 
precepts !  "  exclaimed  Father  Nicholas ;  ^^dulciora  super 
mel  etfavum"  Then  saying  to  his  companion,  «  Excuse 
•  my  want  of  hospitality ;  I  must  see  to  your  horse ;  '*  he 
hurried  out  of  the  room  by  a  different  door  from  that 
which  Father  O'Toole  was  approaching. 

The  priest  from  Peterport  hurried  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, as  if  io  prevent  him  j  so  that  when  the  worthy 
elder  reentered  the  room,  he  found  it  forsaken,  and  only 
heard  retreating  steps. 

"The  present  company  seems  to  be  mostly  absent," 
"said  he. 

Father  Debree  soon  came  back  and  apologized. 

"Ah I"  said  Father  O'Toole,  "I  know  meself  it's 
necessary  looking  to  thim  now  and  again ;  sure,  hadn't  I 
one  meself  then  for  manny  years,  named  Pishgrew,*  from 
some  French  Greneralj  or  other;  (the  boys  called  um 
*  Pitchgrove,'  from  a  trick  he  had  of  getting  tar  on  um, 
however  it  was  he  got  it,)  and  when  he  wasn't  looked  to, 
quare  things  he  did.  He  gnawed  his  own  tail  and  mane 
off,  many's  the  time,  when  my  eye  was  off  him;  the 
children  all  said  the  one  thing  of  him ;  and  sure,  they'd 

•  There  was  a  French  General  Piohegru  famous  In  the  armies  of 
the  Republio. 


.M. 


!«'>-^^w.  *-y^|ffi-p3ig 


^'''^*'^"^^'*"^'^ 


f  'f 


THE  NEW  DRIEST  AT  BAT-HABBOB.  201 

the  best  chance  to  know,  having  nothing  ebe^  do,  mostly, 
but  to  be  watehin  him  at  his  pasture." 

Mr.  Debree  could  not  help  smiling  at.  this  simple 
notion  of  the  necessitjr  of  looking  aft,r  a  valuable  ho«e 
who  had  come  some  mUes  at  a  good  rate,  lest  he  should 
eat  off  his  own  tail  and  mane.  • 

"  Ye'U  stay  the  day,  then,  like  a  man  of  good  sense 
wont  ye,"  asked  Father  O'Toole.^" Ifg  not'  that  much 
time  I  give  upon  the  externals ;—' iurbamur-'  whatV 
this  It  is?-.^erga^lunfHar  ^ one  thing  'i  necetiary r 
but  1  m  more  conforming  and  shutable,  now.**      »         / 

Indeed  he  was;  dressed  in  a  long,  black  cassock  of 
camlet,  or  something  like  it;  black  stock  and  black  stock- 
ings  and  shoes  with  small  silver,  (at  least  shining) 
buckles  on  them  ;  and  irongray  locks  behind ;  respectabl^ 
If  not  venerable,  he  looked  like  one,  of  the  Irish  Roman 
pnests  of  the  old  time,  who  had  been  twenty  or  thirty 
years  in  the  island. 

"We'll  be  having  breakfast  shortly,"  said  the  host; 
'Its  not  good  talking  too  much  with  only  air  in  your 
belly ;  and  after  breakfast  we'll  hear  how  ye're  getting  on  " 
The  old  gentleman  went  to  see  after  break&st,  or  some 
other  matter,  and  Mr.  Debree  was  left  to  himself.  ., 

Nothing  appeared  in  the  room  to  occupy  the  attention 
of  the  visitor  but  two  remains  of  books,  one  painting  on 
the  wall,  and  a  box  upon  the  mantel-shelf.  The  furni- 
ture  was  scanty,  not  quite  clean,  and  many  of  the  pieces 
occupied  with  things  of  many  kinds.  Of  the  books  upon 
the  table,  one  was  a  breviary  without  covei^,  and  almost 
without  contents ;  for  a  great  deal  of  what  had  formerly 
been  paper  was  now  nothing.  Of  what  remained  in  type 
and  tissue,  a  greasy  flaccidness  had  taken  hold.    The  other 


/I: 


n  ' 


-  Jm  ao-o4d  ^►ohjmfrtrf  Mn  Alban  Botiei^LTvei^^^^ 


•^    v-  "^^  _    ■"■ 


I"       J       — ('"^j*-  I  1.  aT""  "■    ''^^^g^SBnMfeil'       ""^ 


202 


THE  NEW  PBIEST. 


I<  ^ 


bf  which  it  would  be  hard  to  say  why  it  had  lost  one 
cover ;  for  the  inside  showed  no  such  marks  of  use  and 
wear  as  would  account  for  it.  Some  places  had  been  fin- 
gered, and  here  a  scrap  of  a  tobacco  wrapping-paper, 
and  there  soitie  grains  of  snuff,  showed  that,  by  accident 
or  of  set  purpose,  its  bulk  of  pages  had  b€en  sometimes 
broken. 

<  Father  Terence  soon  called  him  to  breakfast,  and  said, 
*^He  takes  his  meals  by  himself,  mostly." 

As  may  be  supposed,  no  duty  of  hospitality  was  omit- 
ted by  the  kindly  Irishman,  and  a  good  example  was  set 
hi  his  own  person  of  practice  in  eating. 

There  were  several  subjects  on  which  the  two  priests 
were  to  confer,  or  did  confer;  but  Father  Debree'was 
still  occupied  with  the  loss  of  Skipper  George's  daughter, 
and  the  suspicions  attacl^ng  to  the  Urstons  and  to  the 
nuns  from  Bay-Harbor.  The  old  priest  took  a  kindly 
interest 

"  Indade,  it's  a  sad  thing  for  a  father  to  lose  his  child ! " 
said  he. 

"  But  he's  a  Protestant,"  said  Father  Debree. 

''  And  hasn't  a  Protestant  feelings  ?  Ay,  and^  some  o' 
them  got  the  best  o'  feelings.  I'm  sure  yerself 's  no  call 
to  say  against  it. — ^It's  in  religion  they  make  the  great 
mistake." 

"I'm  not  inclined  to  deny  it.  Father  Terence,  and  this 
is  a  noble  man,  this  Skipper  George  ;  but " 

"  And  who's  Skipper  George,  then  ?  Is  he  the  father  ? 
Oh!  sure  there's  good  Protestants ;  and  it's  hard  to  lose 
a  child  that  way,  and  not  to  know  is  she  dead  or  living,  or 
torn  to  pieces,  or  what ! " 

"  Not  every  one  has  such  good  feeling,  when  the  father's 
a  Proteetant." 


•rJniMA  u 


F«th.,  Teiuiu.  furgut  Mid  neglwted  hb  ,wn  break- 


/ 
/ 


li 


THE  NEW  PRIfiST  AT  BAY-HARBOB. 

«  But  the  Urstons  are  not  that  way,  at  all  •  and  Jam^a 

was  a  good  hoy  I "  answered  the  old  p^^iest  ^"^ 

.»•  ,^'f  *,"^^^^^^  and   a  deplorable  one!     I  couldn't 

^    think  they've  taken  her  •  h»t  .u  i  coman  t 

/  yc  u*Ken  ner,  but  she  was  last  seen  near  th«ir 

been  fou^at  fte  house  and  near  it ,  there's  no  dOubt  of 

"Mrs.  Calloran  confesses  to   Father   Cratapton.     I 
never  .e  W     She  te,U  .«  that  he's  leaCj  the 

"Nol  nol"  said  the  old  priest,  with  great  feeline- 

h.m,  th,s  wh,  e  back.-I  mi„d  hearing  thisgirl  was  W 
mg  h,m  away;  but  I  can't  think  it  of  him  » 

all"!'!''!'  """r  ""  "^  ■''"''  ">  ^«"'*^  Te^nee.  froi 
all  that  I  can  hear.     He  may  have  fallen  in  love  Z 

priest.?'-  "''  "'"'"  ''"'  '*'  """'  «"'■  "-  8»'-g  '0  <«  • 
"  There  were  some  nuns,  so  it  seems,  at  Mr.  U«ton'. 
house  that  eyening,"  said  Father  DebreeUtn^ingne 
fonaer  subject ,  "sni  it's  said  that  .hey  .er.  sJl^ 
■ng  some  one  away."  oiriy. 

"  If  s  little  I  know  about  the  holy  women,-  Father  Te- 
rence  answered,  "more  tbm  if  they  ws»lWile™^ 
Thousand  V.^ns  ij,elf ,  but  wha;S\hey  do  Z 
hte  for  ?  And  would  any  on,  belo^ng  to  this,  whatever 
way  ,t  was  with  the  girl,  without  Z  Lowin,^  TtZ!;^ 
-.11  ye  see  to  the  boy  James  ?  Z  c„„id„T  '  ^^ 
hitn  to  speak  with  me  ? »  \  ''  * 


■T^aV9tf^*rTV^^f*rm-i^ 


( 

ti. 


m 


THE  KEW  PRIEST. 


\ 


though  he  did  not  forget  his  hospitality.  He  seemed 
almost  impatient  to  have  his  commission  undertaken  im- 
mediately^ . 

His  guest,  too,  appeared  to  have  little  ap|>etite ;  but  he 
lingered  after  they  left  the  table,  and  presently  said : — 
*  *<  There  was  another  subject,  Father  Terence  "— — 

"  Come  and  see  me  again,  do  !  and  we'll  talk  of  every 
thing ;  and  don't  forget  the  lad.  Td'not  let  you  go  at  all, 
only  for  that." 

The  young  priest  accordingly  took  his  leave. 


s' 


■^'ft«T    .""  '^^- 


A  CALL  AT  A  NUimERY. 


-Fl*^r  ;   • 


205 


t-!  I    •■ 


CHAPTEB  XXIV. 

A   OAII.  AT  A  mnWBBT. 

DJOINING  the  priest's  house  in  Bay-Hariwr 
was  a  smaU  baUding  of  hter  eonstmction,  en- 

of  thi.  h'^  '  ""J^"*  *'*'"'<"'•     At  the  door 

of  thB  bmlding,  a  pretty  loud  aud  continuous  «ppin. 

was  h^  early  in  the  forenoon  of  Tuesday,  JS 

t^nA  day  of  August,  and  again  and  again.  ^ 

a  nZ''  ^  iT^'  "'"  «°  '-'  '"^  "P  *«  -^ighbore 

got  a  huae  o'  the  spirit  o'  slumber  in  'em,  b'  th'  way  iey 
act,"  said  the  visitor.  '      ' 

J  Wall,  look  a'  here,"  said  Mr:  Bangs,  as  he  found  him- 
self alone  w,th  himself,  on  the  outside,  turning  round  to 
survey  a,e  building  and  neighborhood. 
"Have  you  business  with  some  one  here?-  asked  a 

So.        "T""^^-'  KWe,  and  he  «.w  Fathe^ 
Nicholas,  such  as  we  have  described  him. 

"Wall!  or  Gen'l  Isril  Putnam's  wolf  was  a  fool  to 
tK"  said  Mr.  B^igs,  in  a  low  voice,  by  way  oflil!' 
statmg  himself  in  his  self-^session ,  'then  Z*  «  OM 
How  d  ye  do,  Mr.  _-  ?     Can-^  .^,     ^,       ^; 
--Holy  Father  guess  "U  da     WaU,  I  did  have  a  little 
bu^n^with  'em,  >  some  of  'em.    Seems  to  be  cJt 
™~22™»««WAfe_n„„nery,  s'pose  'tis,-.     This 
■■nnntry  don't .««..  v  bm^  ma^natai  p'i^«irin^^r° 


■fr 


1^1 


•■  M 


\' 


r  I 


206 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


J — don't  seem  't  take  to  it. — Bangs,  myiiame  is.     Come 
f  m  th'  States." 

«  And  may  I  ask,  Mr.  Bangs,  what  particular  business 
you  had  here  ?  " 

"Certin;  *s  no  harm  *n  askin',  ye  know.  "Ts  the 
motto  'f  the  R'public,  ye  may  say.*' 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  know,  then,"  sdW  Father  Nicholas, 
drily.  ' 

"Shouldn't  wonder  '{  'twould  'ford  ye  some,  pleasure ; 
though  guess  ye'll  be  ruthef  'stonished,  f 'r  a  speU.  Come 
to  look  int'  this  r'ligion-business  a  mite.  Don't  inind 
tellin'  you** 

Father  Nicholas  smiled :  « Oh  I  Mr.  Bangs,  from  Pe- 
terport,  thg  American  merchant ! "  said  he.    «  Your  nation 

is  becoming  distinguished ,"    ("they're   'bout   it,  I 

b'lieve,"  inaerted  Mr.  Bangs,  by  way  of  commentary,) 

«  for  inteUigence  and  enterprise.?    («  The'  is  such  a  thing's 

\  bein'  cute,  certin,"  said  Mr.  Bangs.)     «  So  you  wanted 


•\ 


wto  make  some  religious  inquiries  ?  " 
*-^'«WaU,  'smuch  that  's  any  thing,  »guess,"  said  Mr. 
Bangs,  who,  as  he  concentrated  hia  force  upon  his  words, 
knitted  his  brows,  and  looked  a  little  to  the  left  of  the 
person  he  was  addifessing,  as  we  are  taught  to  look  at 
bright  bodies  in  the  sky.  «  D'ye  s'pose  tljey'd  gi'  me  a 
chance  to  git  conviction  ?  'T  any  rate,  t'  look  into  it  and 
join, 'f  I  felt  like  it?" 

"Oh I  yes,"  answered  the  priest,  "any  body  can  have 
a  chance.     There's  a  way  wid6i  enough." 

«  Yes.--Bible  says,  *  Wide  is  the  way,' "  said  Mr.  Ban]^. 
"  Ye  see  the's  all  my  folks  are  Protestants,  'n'  al'a's  were,, 
fur's  I  know,  f'mth'  beginning  of  the  Bangses,  and  stood 
p'tty  high,  too,-4hat  is,  some  of 'em  did.    Why,  my  great 
uncle  was  Deacoii  Parsimmon  Tarbox— lived  at  Brain- 


V ._       ^.""«,*.'ak.i. 


^••^J.-'---^ 


A  CALL  AT  A  NUNNEBT. 


\ 


207 


<  * 


tree,  'n  Massachusetts.  Tain't  likely  you  ever  heiid  of 
Inm;  but  I  dono  what  'd  come  over  'em  to  hear  »t  oae  o' 
the  fanuly 'd  turned  Catholic"  .  . 

«Butletme^,If  ^^anted  to  s^  me,  how  cdme 
you  to  call  here?'/  x>*  . 

«  Wall,  sir.    I  didn't  exactly  com^to  see  you.    I  come 

t  see  some  o' the  folk,8  that  keep  this 'steblish^nt." 
«  What  sort  of  establishment  do  you  tate  this  to  be, 

then?"      ^  •  ^ 

"Why,  a  nunnery,  'r  a  convent,  or  somethin'  ^  that 

sort."  - 

';But  you  don't  expect  to  take  the  veili  do  you?"Jfei. 
quired  the  priest,  with  an  unqualified  smUe.     »  ^ 

"No.  'T's  on'y  wofflgh-folks  't  wear  veils;  but  you 
see,  Its  tl^se  nmineries,  and  mummeries,  V  what  not," 
(Mr. ^ang^ looked  very  innocent,)  "are  gen'Uy  ciounted 
about  the  hardest  thing  in  the  Catholic  religion ;  and  my 
way  IS,  al'a's  to  go  chock  up«to  head  quarters,  when  I 
want  to  know  about  a  thing,  and  so,  thinks  I,  I'll  jes'  g* 
and  see  for  myself."  -  '        J      &* 

yo3r  "^^  '"  "'"^  "^''  '"  ."^'^^^^  ^^»*  ^- 
_  "  WaU  I  thought,  you  know,  'taint  like  one  j^'  those 
Eastern  h^nms,  where  th<8y  wun't  let  a  feUah^g^  ih,^ny 
way  cause  the  women  aU  belong  to  'em,  and  they',; 
afraid  to  ha.ve 'em  ketched  or  snapped  up.  Says  I,rrhi8 
IS  a  Chn3t,an  institootion/all  open  and  above  board." 

res,  you're  jight,  to  a  proper  extent     There  is  n<r  ■ 
concealment  but  what  is  necessary  for  the  object;  whicfe 
i^Tetirement  from  the  world  in  peace  and  safety.     Men,^ 
oi  course,  are  excluded,  because  this  is  a  house  of  holy     • 
women.        ,  '' 

^I"  Cer-tin.    'QtabMmontVl^  m  ^m^^^,Am^^~ 


>« 


I  —  ^—       A 


f 


ik^EJvi 


rs 


.-.•."-e T  ■'■v.j--,'i3rwjTi 


fHE  NEW  PRIEST. 

Ittiif,  m  wight  hi^ve  tmeH^f — maut  ye  inow,— «U  g 
them^Ives,  and  a,  priest  o*  theic  own.  Why,  't  the  Lu- 
natic  'Sjlum  up  to  Worcester,  they  have  a  preacher,  an^ 
keep  the  men  and  women — wftll,  keep  *em  separate,  any 
§lf  .  Say  here's  where  the  «»males  sit,  all  'long  here,'* 
(waving  his  hand,)  « then  here's  what  ye  may  call  a  broad 
aisle— -w'*  " 

*  May  I  inquire  what  particular  object  you  had  in  view 
in  seeing  the  h^d  of  «he  family  here  ?  "  asked  the  Priest, 

"Wh'ye  know  th'  Protestants  'j:'  pleggy  hard  upon 
convents  ;—clappin'  gals  up,  an'  keepin'  'em  'n  prison,  'n'^ 
dungeon,  'n'  what  not.     When  the's  so  much  'f  it,  ye 
want  t'  hear  t'other  side."    Over  here  to  Peterport,  th' 
wanted  me  to  go  'n'  testify  't  I  saw  the  nuns  acarr'in'  oflf 
that  gal,  (down  the  rocks,  there ;)  but  1  come  ^way  'n' 
le<^  'em,  s'pclse  ye  hfeard;--'s  such  a  thhig  's  goin'  too  far. 
Sometimes  they  want  to  be  carricSd  off;  'n'  sometimes  the' 
aint  'ny  carrTn'  off  'bout  it.     TWnks  I,  's  nothin'  'gainst 
my  goin'  'n'  callin*  'n  a.fash'nipt  way,  'n'  takin'  a  look. 
The's  ben  some  pleggy  smart  men  'n  the  Catholic  church ; 
(there's  Cardinal  Wolsey;)  and  these  Protestants,  s'pose' 
you'll  admit,  are  a  little  the  slowest  race !— kith,  kin,  kit, 
—the  whole  boodle  of 'em.     Their  wits  ain't  cute  'nough 
to  find  the  holes  in  their  heads,  /  b'lieve.     Why,  there's 
^i^, Magistrate  can't  stand  it:  shouldn't  wonder  '£^:he 

At  this  point  Mr.  Bangs  waited  for  his  compan 
had  been  apparently  rather  enteAjkined  by  the  A 
matter  and  manner. 
-    «  Y6u  saw  Sister  Theresa,  1  suppose  ?  "  hks  asked. 

**^^8ir;  'n' found  her  quite  the  lady.     Don't  seem 
t*  cwtmuaj^^^^^j,  Vk'  some — owin'  to  bringin'  up,  likely 

a  SfiB  woman.    Now,  'n  th'  States, 


% 


Ql 


A  OaU.  at  a  HUNNKsr. 


.*> 


208 
jewiJk  right  up  to  a  publi,  UMrtAlioB, V  they  iLi..  „ 
m,  and  sW  ye  the  whole  c<«oe™,  y  U  ye  tolC 

favo^,l™!r^       ^'"  "^'  "•  "^P^O"  i»  your 

;^on  I  shaU  introduce  you  to  the  Very  Bet 
ather  CyToole,  by-and-by.»         ■ 
^^all,  Mr,  the's  a  h^n  (dono'^y  ever  heard  it) 

'  Im^^^^^^^'^'^ow's /the  hour: 

See  the  front  o'  Babel  tower: 

See  approach  proud  Satan's  l)6wer:  '     .      -   . 

SIA  an'  Slavery.'  "  ,# 

"  I's  allVs  brought  up  t'  know  the  value  Y  time  V  A 
a  thing  while  ye're  about  it      t    u        ,  '       *. 

shaver,  -t  any  rateT  N^      ^r"?'  ^"'^^  '"'  '"  I'»  • 

'       "^  ^'^•>'     JVever  had  t'  tell  mp  <  ri«  ♦ 
aunt,  ye  duggarf.     ^^^  ^       alV   L  V        -.^*' 
bringin-  up  p,y  fair  sp^a^n,  ail^u.^^eorUtlw 

thevcall  i,  u  ,         ^y'"'  »^'"  *i8  Peterport,  's  ^  • 

n.,.  T„„~'P°''f"°  '"d  Pofein' about  their  b...-. 

^^ ,"""»  «.»t^*|i«e  Uoodle  'a  our  ™ty,io„al  toone.     ~ 


},Masi,?i^ 


.  fh 


V\ 


210 


tHE  N#W  PRIEST. 


f 

% 


ye  know  ;  and  therft  aitit  'ny  stop  about  that ;  when  our 
Yankees  set  out  With  that,  something's  got  to  go,  ship- 
Shape  or  shop-shape,  'r  some  way.  A  fellah  must  hev  a 
plagiiy  sight  of  stick  in  his  shoes  that  don't  go  ahead  to 
that  toone.  ''Twa'n't  so  much  the  fault  o'  the  British,  's 
'twas  becos  nothin'  can  stand  before  our  Yankees  when 
they're  hitched  on  to  it  and  that  toone  agoin'.  Wh'  't 
Bunker — -—that's  'bout  wars  and  battles,  though;  don't 
concern  lis,  now ;  but  I  dono's  ye  ever  noticed  what  a  sol- 
emn psalm-toone  that  '11  make,  only  put  it  slow  enough. 
Faw ! "  l^e  sang,  setting  his  head  straight  on  his  neck  and 
swelling  out  his  throat,  as  if  beginnihg  an  illustration  of 
the  adaptedness  of  his  favorite  air. 

The  Priest  smiled.  "  "  We'll  try,  then,"  said  he.  - ' ^ 
So  saying,  he  turned  to  the  door  on  which  the  knuckles 
of  the  -Aftnerican  had  been  playing  so  persistently,  and 
knocking  three  times,  and  ringing  a  bell,  gave  the  sen- 
tence, ^  Ave,  Maria  Sanctissima !  "  in  a  clear  voice.  An 
answer  was  made  by  a  woman,  "  Sine  labe  concepta," 
and  then  the  entrance  was  made  open  to  them. 

Father  Nicholas  went  forward  into  the  nearest  room. 
Mr.  "Bangs  following,  and  the  sister  being  in  the  rear. 
He  then  turned  square  about  Ohd  said :  "  Sister  Agnes, 
•  this  visitor  from  the  United  States  of  America  is  making 
inquiries  into  the  truths  of  our  Most  Holy  Faith.  He  has^ 
a  desire  to  ascertain  whether  our  religious  houses  are 
prisons.  Have  the  kindness  to  say  to  Sister  Theresa, 
that,  with  her  leave,  we  »re  come  to  see  this  simple  little 
house." 

— "What's  your  will,  Father  Nicholas?"  asked  Sister 
Theresa,  meekly,  as  sl\e  entered.  f 

""Mr.  Bangs,  Ma'am, — you  recollect,"  said  the  Ameri- 
OMi,  recalling  her  memory  to  himself.    J_ 


A  CALL  AT  A  NUNNEBY.  oit 

•  "I  only  wish  to  ask  pemu«ion,  in  fever  of  Mr.  Bano 
here,  to  go  tlm-ugh  your  little  establishment  in  ™y  com- 
pany. It  .  not  for  the  gratiBcation  of  idle  cariosi^Z 
for  .mportant  reasohs,  which  I  will  explain  hereafter" 

"Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  direct  me?"  asked 
she,  m  return.  *®" 

"  We  will  follow  you,  if  you  please." 

"  And  where  shall  we  begin  ?  ".  asked  she  again,  stiU  in 
uncertainty.  ^      '      "  *° 

"Any  where.    Here,  for  example,  at  the  beginning 
f  yon  11  let  me  t^e  the  guide's  office,"  said  the^est 

"  Certin^  This  paintin'  ain't  a  common  work,  by  con- 
.dble.  Onep' the  best  things  o' Ma,  sort,  I  'm'ost'eTer 
aaw.  In  saying  ,h,s,  the  ;Ameri«,  put  himself  at  a 
d  tance  .nchned  his  head  a  little  to^ne  aide,  and  applied 
h  s  hand  made  mto  a  tube,  to  his  right  eye,  closing  the 
other.    "  Seems  to  freshen  on  the  ga^e !  don'l  it  i " 

"This  room,  with  this  sort  of  hole  in  the  door,"  co.- 
mued  h,s  reverend  guide,  to  the  tasteful  American,  not 
(00  abruptly,  opening  the  door  communicating  with  the 
^oom  ,„  the  rear,  through  which  the  nun  had  Le  to  the 
former  .ntervew  with  her  curious  visitor,  "is  a  sort  of 
back-parlor,  having  this  opening  to  «ll.w  the  ladies  to 
eo.nn,„n,cate,  if  necessary,  with  per«,„s  here,  without  ex- 
posing themselves  to  the-observation  of  strangers  dr  others." 

^^^i^versalSkepticon.  down  t^  Boston,  g^Me.t_ 
"-B  o  die-Hnrm  the  world,  they  say.     I  don't  s'po« 


il 


V 


:,l.'.l^'. 


212 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


Sister  Theresy  ever  had  much  notion  for  those  things ; 
but  you're  aware  there  are  great, — wall, — " 

''Here  we  are  at  the  last  room  on  this  floor.  This 
little  place  is  a  private  retiring  room,  for  prayer,"  inter- 
rupted the  Priest,  gently  and  easily,— Mr.  Bangs  accept- 
ing the  interruption  as  quite  regular.  .,-^ 

"  Don't  seem  to  make  much  provision  f '  the  wants  o' 
the  flesh,  any  how,"  sail  the  latter.  «  First  house,  pretty 
much,  's  I  may  say,  I  ever  see  'thout  a  kitehin.  Wall,  I 
didn't  s'pose  'twas  a  fact,  but  they  used  to  say,  you  know, 
that  nuns  lived  p'tty  much  like  Injuns,  on  parched  com, 
and  80  on."  • 

"The  Sisters'  simple  cooking  is  done  in  the  adjoining 
*)use,  belonging  to  the  Reverend  Father  O'Toole,"  ex- 
plained his  guide,  «  for  the  Mission,  in  this  place." 

"Very  Solemn,  cer-tin :— that  fixin'  there,  I  mean." 
Father  Nicholas  and  the  lady,  standing  silent,  after  hav- 
ing crossed  themselves  at  sight  of  the  crucifix  an4  one  of 
the  usual  representations  of  a  woman  with  a  child,  before 
which  "fixin',"  as  it  had  just  been  caUed,  stood,  on  a  httle 
bracket-shelf,  a  metal  candlestick  and  candle  and  a  few 
very  artificial  flowers,  with  one  real  moss  rose  and  three 
real  rose  leaves  among  them. 

"  I  ain't  quite  used  to  doin'  that,  yet,"  continued  the 
visitor,  referring  to  the  cussing,  and  gesticulating  after 
some  fashion  of  his  own.  While  he  was  making  his 
demonstration,  however,  there  was  some  sound  of  a  cough 
or  sneciee  from  more  than  one  of  the  neighboring  females, 
whoever  or  wherever  they  were. 

"  Pupils,  or  servants,"  said  the  priestly  conductor,  look- 

ing  with  something  like  asperity  towards  the  Sister;  then, 

turning  the  end  of  the  sentence  to  Mr.  Bangs,  "  We  shall 

i?*°  J!y^^  ^^"^"g^  Q"?J^^f^  fl^"^  yn'l  will  get  no 


Tipfmm 


rw 


A  CALL  AT  A  NUNNEBY.  ^IS 

very  exalted  notion  of  the  importance  of  ou^  meek  Ht<J« 
commumV  continued  Father  Nicholas.  «  Our  Text  s^ 
go  up  these  narrow  stairs  "  ^ 

gen  Uy,  here,  think  the.  land  turns  to  water    'Hhi^ 
down     No  need  o"  ^Hn-  a  c^  »•  dulTg^^  'JtkZ 

r.-S"r^"""'  wh,,hf:e-.;,ituet^ 

tote  f^en        ^  """"  '^'^"'  »*«'y '-'  '*»"«  lite 
Int:;.     ""  "■""  ^""-^  ^'  <»'-'  '•  ---^X,  m  thi. 

«>  gu.de,    as  far  as  may  be ,  but  I  fancy  that  not  mad. 
.»  ^  be  seen,  unless  the  darkness  is  visible."  "^ 

Ihe  Ameriean  putting  his  eyes  and  nose  down  towards 
;h    open.„g   „„„ked  upon  iwety  summarily,  "^^^ 

»  o"g  told  straw  or  hay ;  but  Vs  a  comfort  to  see  it,  any 
liow.  You  see,  com  n' riffht  f -m  n.«  e...  i  ''»"7 
'H  i.at  •!,„..  ,    ^  ""^  o'a'es.  where  a  man 

i  jest  bout 's  soon  think  of  hevin-  no  pockit  in  his  dmT 
a,  not  hevin'  a  cellar  to  his  house,  it  l^sf^ng^  7^' 

-«1  old.fash,oned  ones  «,mes  in  well.  What  l^rJZ 
0  part«,ons  they -have  here,  compared  U  real  wX^ 
.th  and  plaster,"  he  concluded,  knocking,  at  ZZL 

separated  one  room  from  another 

BO,;!'?/!,?"  '^*^'"  '"""^'  '=««*'">y '  I""  "ligiou^  perw 

.tet'  I      rf"'  ""^  ""  «»"""  "o  have-wh^wiuCt 
their  day:  .iK,„,  ^.-^  ^„j,^„  ^  •»• 

here  a  W„g  city,  but  we  seek  one  that  i,  to  «meT» 
Cert,,    sa,d  Mr.  Bangs.    "  We  ought  to,  any  how." 

jTiJ.T^uT^''^  P«^  "O'LJP  the  little  ei^y. 
J«uuii,U.ePrie*tTeadi£gj  Mr.  Bang.  acoomp«.yjng 


)J 


itf^TIt 


814 


9 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


him  by  going  up  two  stairs  at  a  time,  and  then,  poirang 
himself  for  a  moment,  so  as  to  keep  the  same  relative  dis- 
tance between  himself  and  the  rest  of  the  party,  before 
and  behind ;  the  females  bringing  up  the  rear. 

"This  is  *  recreation-hour,'  is  .it».not,  Sister  Theresa?" 
inquired  the  guide,  and,  receiving  an  answer  in  the 
'  affirmative,  added,  "  I  shall  have  great  pleasure,  Mr. 
Bangs,  in  giving  you  an  opportunity  of  seeing  every 
m^nber  of  the  household,  without  any  exception ;  the  list 
is  not  as  long  as  the  roll  of  Xerxes'  army,  or  the  immortal 
Washington's.  We  number  only  five,  all  told,  I  think: 
Me  sick.  Sisters  Theresa,  Agnes,  Frances,  Catharine, 
and  Bridget;  two  professed,  as  we  call  them;  one  lay, 
one  novice,  one  postulant" 

"  Yes :  postulate  means  wanted,  or  cw'c?,  I  b'lieve ;  one 
't  you  waAt  to  have  join,  I  guess."  ' 

"  Reverse  it,  and  you  have  the  meanmg  of  postulant, 
exaicikj ;  <me  that  as'ks  to  be  admitted." 

'*  Oh,  posttdant  I  I's  thinkin'  of  po3tu/a<«.  I  got  that 
out  of  an  old  book  o'  my  father's,  time  I  was  keepin'  com- 
pany o'  Gasty — wall,  a  good  while  »%o." 

"This  room  is  what  you'll  understand,  at  once,"  open- 
ing one  to  the  lefl,  of  some,  ten  feet  by  twelve,  with  a 
i?ecess  at  the  further  end,  about  five  feet  deep  and  six  feet 
wide,  railed  across  even  with  what  was  lefl  of  the  wall ; 
which  latter  was  occupied  entirely  by  a  closed  door  on 
4Hie  side,  and  an  open  one  on  the  other,  showing  a  little  ' 
closet  opening  into  the  recess  before  spoken  of,  with  a 
screen  or  paling. 

"  That,  you  see,  is  aa  altar ;  these  pictures  around  the 
rown  are  what  we  call  stations,  used  for  marking  different 
plaoes  to  kneel  and  pray." 

"I  lie  I"   Mtid   fttg  jiaitorj   "  jdeinn4ix)kia'   phce. 


n 


.:^m: 


*♦?,  ,  ■'"'WV^^'  "t^??^^ 


A  CALL  AT  A  NUMN^BY.  „,^ 

hat."  ^^  ^^'^^  Dutohman  and  his 

"  You've  an  excellent  eye.  air     T».;„  ^       .      , 
of  the  ne«  house  that  I  ^C^  ^  "T"  '^'^  o"* 
»hall  see  the  whole  arrun^ln^'f ■  "^°" "^  ^^^^  ■*'  y»» 
Ahi  here  i.  Sister  FrancS     "?!  o'"'  ''^  ""*  ''y- 

(They  all,  except  Sis^  Th  "^  >'*»««' Ursula- 

turned  towarfT  ^trsT  Tt":;  *^  T""  *-  '"•^'^s 
but  one.     These  n«™r\.    ^°"  "«^  «"  o*"  ">«  femilr 

".e  doo™  wS  ^ira  nr""™^"  "^'"'^•'^o  "^ 
which  the  reader  kft°t     ^    "  "^'  <'*«  *<««"* 

Wre  and  ha^^Lltfr  Td^^l^rf^  '''''"' 
,   kind  beside.  '  ^'"^^  ^inuture  of  any 

.heriirCatdt?'  f  :h'^'"^  '"'-  "^  """^  -^ 

next  door  we^^^/     father. progress.     Before  the 

Theresa  ;juti„?l'rf.''™™'  ""  '"*  «'"«™'  8»'<* 
"  Please  to  leTou?'"  ""  """  """""^^  "^  *»  ««k- 

".e  pillow  of  the  aflliSlTs^,;"/  ""^j"^""'  ™-* 
a  tender  and  syu.pafcn^;:::^'"     «•«  Pn-t  asked,  i„ 

C*t:;;:;?:?.r :  a^- '"'"? "- "- 

held  the  door  «n J    f^  '^^'^^'  ''^  *  ^^"Per,  the  nun  who 
-nding  beside  he'r  in  f^TV!:^^'-  '^^  - 

ex4:  .t::nXr::t.runt:  ?  "'"^  ""-'"^ 


1 


216 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


towai-ds  the  bed  on  which  the  mere  outline  of  the  sick 
one  could  be  seen,  and  then  gradually  turned  to  other 
objects  in  the  room.  There  was  such  perfect  silence,  that 
the  heavy,  regular  breathing  was  distinctly  heard  from 
within.  The  change  which  had  passed  upon  the  visitor, 
in  presence  of  this  scene  of  human  need  ^d  helplessness, 
was  very  striking,  as  he  stood  thus  subdued,  with  his 
hands  before  him,  one  holding  his  hat,  and  the  other. the 
opposite  wrist.  He  yas  as  still  as  if  his  very  breathmg 
were  too  loud.       * 

But  it  would  be  too  much  to  look  for  very  long  "stand- 
ing-still or  silence  from  him ;  and  soon,  indeed,  abruptly 
turning  to  his  reverend  guide,  he  spoke  in  an  awkward 
whisper,  considerably  above  his  breath,  which  he  had  kept 
down  so  carefully,  as  follows  : — 

"  Dono'^  ye  ever  noticed  it,  abyut  sickness;—"  when,— 
precipitated  by  an  ungainly  gesture  accompanying  his 
words,— a  shower  of  things  out  of  his  hat  dispersed  them- 
selves within  the  sickroom  and  about  the  floor  on  which' 
the  company  stood.  The  accident  affected  every  member ' 
of  the  party,  even  those  whose  backs  were  turned.  These 
kst  rustled  a  little  ;  and  a  sound  almost  like  a  giggle 
came  from  some  one  or  more,  the  most  ijnpulsive.  §ister 
Theresa  crossed  herself,  as  soon  as  she  recovered  from 
the  first  shock  of  this  rude  and  most  unnecessary  inde- 
corum. The  Priest  at  first  came  near  to  smiling,  uninten- 
tionally; but  instantly  visited  the  unsanctified  misadven- 
ture with  a  frown  that  gathered  over  the  still  lingering 
smile,  like  a  dark  cloud  above  the  streak  of  Sunset-sky. 
The  short  word  "  b^h ! "  escaped  his  lips. 

The  author^f  all  this  commotioh,^interrupted  in  his 
well-meant  speech,  glancing  round  the^»mpany,  brushmg 
up  one, side  of  his  hair  over  the  bold,  and  saying,  "Do 


'"  *  !^\  i"^ P't^*^,*^"^  "■'■  '^ "' ^Jff^A'l^fci^S 


/ 


A  OA£L  AT  A  NUNiSfBiRT. 


/ 


217 

tell!  wall,  don't  stir "  ftll  at  *\.^  . 

before  J,  one  h^  h»H  ,        !  "^^  "^^*'  '*»<«*'  "* 

a  glance  ,„  pas„„g,  a,  a  colored  engraving  of  a  ^Zf 

.p.      ,      „      ^"*^*^'  wnich  there  was  not. 

:—;..., a.. r^iif^iLrz^ear 

However,  b'lieve  no  harm's  done      mn'f  W       \ 
you,  sir,  awaiting,  and  the  ladieT"  "'  ""^P 

Tl,e  remainder  of  the  visit  was  soon  dispatched    Father 
ft    '"^  appearing  not  iess  kind,  if  less'conlil?  h^t 
.tr-!:^.Tr r"""^  "  '■^^-'""''onof  the  adjli^g 

.0.;'  remlrhe'TorvLt^T'', '"'°''  ''i  ""^  '  '"^ 
the  outs..  ,1.  r  pleasure.     I  told  yon  at 

f  »"t8et  that  you  were  tt^ated'  with  verv  r,r. 
s'Jmtion,  because  I  didn't  believe  71,  ^^  "" 

would  be  th«,wn  away     I  shlu  bet    '"  r"'.'^" 
«».  further  infom-ation^hicV m^  t  ^mT^w^:.'-  ^«'' 

™e  JS  "r .  °?r  '"  ^™'  '■"  »-•  «-     'T'«  done 
me  good.     Jest  what  I  like.     Come  and  see  for  m'self 

tat^:a,;-r "■./"«  "  f --«'•    -^  •«  Wn't  zt 
^^^^^  *"  *««cccss  to  thr  ladies,  adoin'  good,^ 


7,-^ 


'I      I 


i 


.vsi 


«■  r         'A       ^"  <*%-.    ^-^     >^i*i-^'^^ 


,1 


t 
1      . 


218 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


•nd  m  jest  go  straight  to  the  other  priest,— that's  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Terence's  or  0'Toole's,--and  do  a  little  busi- 
ness 'th  him,  'f  I  find  I  can."  , 

As  Father  Nicholas  and  his  guest  withdrew,  Sister* 
Theresa  was  heard  saying,  «We  wiU  now  go  to  our 
oflSce,  sisters,  and  we  have  something  to  make  up."  The 
machinery  of  the  establishment  (after  the  obstruction  had 
been  removed)  began  to  go  as  before.  We  go  with  the 
retiring  party  as  far  as  the  outside. 


't          '^ 

hat's  the 

* 

ttle  busi- 

V,  Sister* 

* 

9  to  our 

)."    The 

;tion  had 

with  the 

1^^'  7     T" 


^     -f"i'Vi^71?^S?f""^*f2° 


OTHEB  SUSPICIOUS  PBKSONS. 


2id 


nv 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"'   -^<^'«-H-E  ....s   WITH  OTHBB  SnSPlOrOU. 

PERSONS. 

^HE  world  waa  going  «,  fa.  PeterpoH  also.  PubBo 
fasten  o-fhLc^frt'w  '"'""'™^  '^''  """«  «» 
leas  "irair";  "'  """•'  "'"'•"'  """^  "«  ™  '^- 

P"blic_ItdM^'r  '         *  *"""  *  g™«'  deal  for  the 
[luuuc.    ^it  did  not  yet  appear. 

£  no le  celirro'  '"  '"'"'^'''  ^»™'  ""'<"' 
'ongnes  of  thefts  Z'V'  "^'^'"^  *" 
"Tstery  were  leftrsaenet;,^irr^:jn:e'"''  ""^ 

Tover  and  the  disaffected  Bo™.„  Catholic,  (if  he  ..a  ^ 


4) 


•■m^-< 


'li. 


820 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


^ 


affected  ;)--the  public  eye  still  looked  darkly  at  Mrs.  Cal- 
loran,  and  beyond.  \ 

Mrs.  Calloran  herself  had  said,— very  truiy,-^that 
« there  were  other  old  women  in  Peterport,"  and  the  hands 
\  of  justice,  again  feeling  about,  grasped  Granny  Palasher 
and  held  her  to  an  examination.  They  were  to  have 
laid  hold  on  M?.  Bangs,  (this  timfe,)  and  Ladf<jfd ;  but 
these  had  both  slipped  between,  like  other  littl^  men  of 
old  time,  between  those  of  another  giant.  Of  l^adford's 
movements  nothing  was  reported ;  but  of  the  American. 
William  Frank  had  this  to  say,  That  he  had  sent  some 
important  communication  to  the  vice-consul  of  his  co^ 
try,  at  St.  John's,  and  had  left  the  harbor  for  parts  ii^^ 
known.  .  '"  . , 

The  magistrate  made  little  out  of  the  Granny,  except 
that  her  name  was  properly  Ann  Pilchard,  and  that  the 
public  suffrage  was  with  her  when,  she  .asserted  that  she 
"  had  an  occupation  and  knowed  it  'most  soMod  as  some 
other  folks  did  theirs,  mubbe."  Having  in  S  course  of 
a  day  elicited  so  much,  he  adjourned  his  court. 

Awaking  from  the  sleep  which  had  settled  down  upon 
a  mind  and  body  jaded  with  the  long  day's  and  night's 
work,  which  went  before  and  followed  the  last  adjourn- 
ment of  his  "  court,"  and  yet  another  full  day's  painful 
deliberation,  he  was  informed  by  his  servant,  that  there 
was  a  paper  on  the  fropt-door,  and  that  «he"  (the 
paper)  "looked  mostly  like  a  print,  seemunly."  The 
color  rose  in  Mr.  J^aughton's  cheeks,  and  his  fingers 
trembled  as  he  proceeded  to  examine  this  new  decoration 
of  his  house.     He  evidently  suspected  it. 

He  walked  leisurely  and  stopped  at  more  than  one 
thing  in  the  way,  and  when  he  got  out  of  doors,  looked 
up  at  the  sky  and  do^D  at  some  ye^etadod'on  whi>h  h^ 


N 


"^^'J*lVft??'^'*"^''?^S*^^'¥Ct^  i^-^^jfe^*" 


mencan. 


^ -^HEB  suspicious  PERSONS.  ^       .   g^' 

««'  in.o  long  «.rip3  ,„,  thentto  il~w"wi:-rr 
g«ve  by  instalments  to  the  wind,  rr  T  '  "*  ■•* 
en.-el,  up  and  down  in^tf  «:  °  """^'^  "'''"'- 
face,  (considerably  reddeoTh    1  "'"'  '"'""''"S  W' 

frequently  to'the  Cd  wTa'.  HmT!'"  V  "'  ""'"'^ 
woUd  that  tl«,re  he  was  „„*  ^  .^  '"^ '""'«"'  ">« 
".ark  of  any  rnimadvlln       "™''  ■"'  "^^  *"  •«  '"- 

b.eX  ""•'  ""^  "«  '"•-'»  ""-If-  ^fore  going  i„  „ 

Th/t  the  impersonation  of  Justice  in  T^m.      ^ 
weary  of  its  effort.,  was  soont  e  IS"^  ""^ "' 

'- uTS;  ^:r  •  ""^  r-^^'^  -^"^  ^.^t": 

up  again  and  g, vmg  her  a  «  hauling^ ver  " 

and  he  forestalled  1         "'"'  '"^''^'"^  "^  ^"S""'"  J"" ' " 
eye  was  twtk  ng  irrT'r""'''*  "-^  "-"able', 

-_,„^ "  ""^r.  oy  putting  into  thnt  nfficcr'a  l^...i  _  .„..■ 

^HTandla^-ng  authoritatively,-.    ^^    **-d  s-roi^  — 


!*V« 


WJ 


222 


"l-HE  HIW  PRIEST. 


"You'll  see  that  Mrs.  Frank  is  brought  before  me 
with  all  diligence."  ., 

The  constable's  eye  twinkled  as  much  as  e^er ;  and, 
putting  the  writ  in  his  pocket,  before  he  went  forth  upon 
his  errand,  he  made  a  new  suggestion  : — 

"  She'll  never  be  able  to  stand  it,  sir,  will  she,  poor  t)ld 
thing  ?  she's  had  a  good  deal  &  worriment  over  this  al- 
ready, they  say."  ^  ' 

"  Justice  is -absolute,.  Mr.  Gilpin ;  if  you  find  her  health 
impaired,  you  wilj  report  it." 

So  the  constable  went  about  his  business. 
*    Granny  Frank  was  at  thie  time  upon  a  few  days'  visit 
to  her  grand-daughter,  Jesse  Barbury  Hill's  wife,  and 
thither  the  constable  proceeded,  to  subpoena  her,  or  rather 
fetch  her  ^ith  him  to  the  magistrate. 

There  was  a  little  commotion  in  the  house  as  Gilpin 
came  to,  it,  which  prevented  his  tap  at  the  door  from 
being  heard,  and  he  walked  in,  accordingly,  unbidden. 

A  child  or  two  were  playing  in  the  sitting-room ;  but 
all  the  older  members  of  the  family  had  drawn  together 
in  a  bedroom  at  the  side.  The  constable  came  silently 
across,  and  was  not  noticed ;  for  Jesse  mM  his  wife,  and 
Isaac  Maffen  were  busy  about  a  bed,  in  which  the  shriv- 
elled and  exhausted  old  woman  lay,  heaving  long,  slow 
sighs  for  breath.  "^ 

"  Jes-se, — child — ,"  she  was  saying,  with  longer  than 
her  usual  intervals  between  the  syllables,  and  more  feebly 

-rump  ! — heave — I — up,-^I 


than    usual, — "un-der — my 
— wants — to — ^— high  "— 


Jesse  Hill,  as 


dutifully  as  a  child,  and  as   tenderly  as 
might  be,  did  hejr  bidding ;  and  raised  the  slight  body  up. 
"She's  gone /"said  Gilpin,  as  he  scanned  her  face; 
Jilhat's  heiv  last  word^ia  ty&4ife,^u  may  depend-1-^^   . 


•^"^ 


OTHEB  SrSHciOuP^BSONS. 


MS 

"Do  'ee  think  80?»  asked  Jeese,  "whv  sh.'.  ^ 
got  through  wi'talkunl"  ,  ™7. 'He  s  ic'ce 

"God-rest  her,  then ! »  said  her  grandson-in-Iaw  •  Tm 
ht/^  -  aH  W«„n  uppn  Her  .hen  she  ^L',  aT" 

sail^ertaht  '""""'  ^-->""«  wa.  saved  her," 

and  sent  for  the  different  members  of  the  family  while 
the  constable  lingered,  without  mentioning  the^^^d 
upon  which  he  had  come.  '  ' 

" Z^'^^u"!  ^°"  ^'"  ''^'^'  "''^'« •  "  '"d  6e, as  his  ere 
caugh  sight  of  a  parcel  standing  „„  the  mantLshett  ^ 

Har*:-  ^™  ■""  ""  "^S  "P'  <■-  -.  fi-n  B> 

^^  j;  Whj.,  it's  for  the  Pai-son,  man ;  why  didn't  yon  deliver 

"  He  on'y  asked  I  to  bring  it,"  said  the  trusty  denosi- 
ary;  "an    so  I  kept  it,  tull  'e'd  .call,  'isself.  "l  „^ 

knowed  what  it  was."  « 

"Well,  bad  readin'  'Jl  never  spoU  you,  Jesse      How 
long  wUs  the  old  lady  sick  ? »'  ""^ 

"She  never  was  sick ;  not  that  we  knowed  of;  but  iust 
-.tun,  an  layun  on  the  bed,  as  comfortable  as    ouW  be 
tull  just  a  few  minutes  sunce  ;^a.  it  might  be,  two  three 
minutes  afore  you  corned  in."  ^ 

Juf'  'Y'  ^^^  '"^"^^  «^  ^*'  ^^  «he  was  ready.     She 
might  We  had  too  much,if  she'd  staid  longer,     l^^l      ' 

"No ;  we'll  wait  the  funeral  tull  Monday.  T  .npj^.,  ,^    ^ 
^W^ un  a  Chance  to  come  back."  ^*^^^^^"t= 


I) 


.;&„.. 


■®? 


N-^ 


224 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


The  constable  took  his  leave,  and  went  to  make  hia 
return.     Jesse  went  too. 

Both  the  men  started  back,  and  made  a  reverentiaf 
salutation,  as  they  met  Mrs.  Barre,  on  coming  into  the 
road.     Her  look  was  more  troubled  than  usual. 

"  It's  easier  partin'  a  gran'mother  than  it  is  a  husband 
or  a  child,"  said  the'"con3t"able,  shortly  after. 

"All  so,  Mr.  Gulpin,"  said  Jesse,  "  that's  a  clear  case  ; 
you've  got  to  part  they.  I  hard  Parson  Kingman's  wife 
say,  *  death  is  an  alteration,  surely,  an'  can'  be  helped.' " 

There  were  some  loiterers  about  the  magistrate's  prem- 
ies ; — people  that  can  always  spare  time  for  public  affairs ; 
and  whom,  now,  the  mission  of  the  constable  had  stimu- 
lated to  strong  expectancy.  The  nfagistrate  was  im- 
mersed ip, mental  and  manual  occupation:  reading  and 
writing. 

"  There  was  some  one  to  sMimons  her  before  I,  sir," 
said- Gilpin.  /  ■ 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  askedThe  magistrate,  nervously  ; 
for  though  he  got  along  very  well  with  plenty  of  sea-  - 
room,  the  prospect  of  a  collision  or  conflict  of  jurisdictions 
was  a  new  thing  to  him. 

**  She's  dead,"  said  the  constable. 

"  Dead  !  Why,  that  can't  be,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Naughton, 
"  she  was  alive  yesterday." 

"And  so  she  was  the  minute  she  died,  sir ;  but  she 
won't  be  again,  in  one  while,  unless  the  Day  of  Judgment 
comes." 

The  comparison,  so  strongly  dravyn  by  the  Almighty 
between  His  nfight  and  the  Stipendiary's  "  absolute  jus- 
tice," affected  Mr.  Nnughton  considerably. 

He  went  to  the  window,  (the  public  being  outside,)  and 
through  it  spoke, — 


OTHER  SUSPICIOUS  PERSONS.  ggS 

"I  am  given  to  understand,"  said  he, -that  Mrs  Abi 
ga.1  Frank,  ^mrnonly  called  OH  GrL.y  F^,  tho 
had  been  summoned  as  a  witness,  is  dead.'  l',^ 
therefore,  prorogue  this  court,  as  is  customarf,  m>til  .S 
he  funeral.  Mr.  Gilpin,  this  warrant  is  dismteed ,  »T„d 
he  solemnly  bowed  away  the  constable  and  a  few  of  "he 

(.ood.i     satd  Gilpm,  as  soon  as  they  were  in  the 

month."  '  ''^J''"™   '^^  *  twelve- 

The  pec>ide  dispersed,  (to  better  occupations,  perhaps) 
and  Granny  Palasher  having  certified  herself  /thefai 
from  Jesse,  commented  upon  it  as  many  another  "d 
wommi  has  commented  upon  a  like  case :- 

"Poor  things  she   alw>   seemed  to  ail  o'  somethun 
these  f^^^^^ 

Mi^e":.!'^  °^^^^^-^^'^'  ^'^"^  -^^  ^^  wa,  to  th, 

" ^!'l' Spring-Bird  '  has  sailed,  sir,"  said  he ;  « o'  Tues- 
day mght,  Jesse  says;  so  Cap'n  Nolesworth's  off." 

l3he?»saidMr.  Wellon.     "  I'm  sorry  he  couldn't 
have  9taid  to  help  us  clear  this  up !  "     .  < 

natld'it"""''  Tf  '  '""'^^'"  "^  ^^^  «-^-  »»~i  <J-«- 
le  r  1  rrf '  "  T  '^^'^^P"^'  ''"^  '^  quaint-lo6king 
tter  on  a  foolscap  sheet,  addressed  to  '»  Mister  Wellon! 
the  English  episcopalian  minister  at  Peterport,  to  the 
kindness  of  Mister  Barbury,  with  Dispatch." 

n  h  s  face  of  surprise,  amusement,  and  interest,  handed 
It  to  the  constable,  saying,— 


^^ 


"  Ytnt  seOTrro  bffisiyn^rheaTn^tEsT^ 

VOL.  I.  ,5 


^^*^^^^^"^'  T  .-fi  ,-.->ll    i^ 


■^ 


'■?S;-J-^-S^s 


^26 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


The  latter  took  it,  with  a  look  of  astonishment,  and 
having  prefaced  his  work  by  the  remark,  "  Well,  that's  a 
queer-looking  concern,  any  way,"  proceeded  to  read  aloud, 
in  a  subdued  voice,  and  here  and  there  with  difficulty,  as 
foUows : — 

« IVKster  Wellon,  Sir*:— 

"  Thinking  you  may  be  aware  of  a  little  surcumstance 
that  happened  here,  and  knowing  your  concern  in  people's 
souls,  is  my  reason  for  writing,  to  let  you  know  what, 
maybe,  will  prove  interesting.     You  see  I  took  a  notion 
to  look  into  this  Holy  Roman  Religion,  a  might,  while  I's 
about  it,  and  not  having  any  thing  partiklar  to  do  till  fall 
business  commences.     I  think  best  to  inform  friends  And 
all  concerned,  /  may  be  converted,  and  I  may  not :  sup- 
pose it  ell  be  according  to.     I  have  ben  in  one  of  those 
Nunneries,  ye  may  call  it.     Never  saw  any  thing  the 
kind  managed  better,  in  my  life.     Sister  Theresy  is  as 
genteel  a  lady  as  I  should  wish  to  see.     A  little  accident 
occurred  while  I's  holding  inspection,  as  you  may  say. 
My  hat,  you  may  have  taken  notice  to  it,"  ("  Well,  this  is 
a  pretty  fellow ! "  said  Gilpin,)  "  it  went  and  come  right 
out  of  my  hand,  aw^y  into  tlie  middle  of  the  floor,  in  a 
room  where  they  had  a  young  lady  sick.     Most  every- 
body,carries  a  few  notions  in  his  hat,  I  guess,  and  so  I 
had  a  pocket-handkerchief,  and  a  knife,  and  a  razor,  and 
a  comb,  and  what  not  ?  and  they  all  went  sescatter.  Pen-  . 
knife,  one  of  your  Congress  knives,  present  from  honor- 
able Tieberius  Seaar  Thompson,  Member  Congress,  went 
away  off  under  a  picture ;  see  it  was  "  Saint  Lucy,"  right 
opposite  the  bed ;  same  name  of  your  Miss  Barbury : 
pretty  well  executed,  I  sho'd  judge ;  only  a  might  too  red 
in  the  face,  supposing  she  fasted  as  I  should  say  she  had 
ought  to,  if  she  was  a  Nun.      Lucky  I  didn't  wake  the 


"fWi  «':|i-*jr; 


OTHER  SDSPIOIOUS  PERSONS.  ^^ 

t^e,  ^.XZ^^Z^Z'T  ITi  'T  ^'""^ 

«ay  she  oug^fo  W  iTartr  "f  f^'  ^-o"" 

ness  and  uncertaimy  orhu  "    If      ^°®  """"'''■ 

,     eighteen  ni.h  as  I  Ih     T  '"t-"*'"^ '»  "'^  «'«'" 

.h^y  eaU  hi;  ratlr     ^'^1 '"'  ^"-r  ""'""""^ 

about  .he  acceden,  and  I  col  aZy'  "ZH  '"'  *"" 
teous  leave.  ^'  *^^  *  cour- 

xii  gs  ot  the  old  gentleman,  that's  Father  O'T^i 

MassachnseTts  ,0  l^r'"''  ""  """  °"  '""'  ««ven„rof 
of  Needhatl :  Ted  ^  bT  "r7  "•"'  ™^  '*'•  ^^-^s 
i-  .0  act  about  rl^ntts  :^':™%t'  '°",  '"°^ 

"We«!»  e.cW.ed  Gilpin/ JkiL^nTlitr'-" 
eye  tw  nkling,  when  he  had  fi-liahed  the  reLdTnl  «tf  1"! 
isn't  a  letter  and  a  half  I "  reaamg,    if  that 

"These   Americans    have    strange    wavs-  m,M   nr 

eijht:;rif:;':-^  ^^.--'-^  ."^'^  -d  aw 

•ogether  with  a  di^ctnemhaf  f*^' ".'.""'"T  "'™"'  "'■"8' 
worth V  nf  .    °, ."="""«  ™t  would  not  have  been  un- 


ii 


think  AL-.  D>iigH  pcrifial  mT^ 


-^-^ 


^f^n^' 


• ;  i  7'.-'^j^;m  '  vS^F  ,• 


228 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


i 


«  Oh,  no,'*  said  Mr.  Wellon  j  « that's  just  what  they  would 
do*  verj  likely,  if  they  were  trying  to  make  a  convert ; 
they'd  haiig  up  a  portrait  of  her  patfbn-saint,  as  they  call 
it.  All  this  confirms  our  suspicion.  Thank  God  it  comes 
just  in  time.  I  never  thought  of  the  American  making 
himself  so  useful:" 

"Dropping  his  hat!"  said  the  constable.  "If  that 
isn't  one  way  of  gitting  into  a  place !  That  is  a  joke ! 
*  Holy  Roman  Religion  ! '      There's  a  convert  for  'em ! 

But  that  sick  girl "       .  .     ■ 

«  That's  a  pity  ] "  said  the  Minister,  thoughtfully,— the 
constable  eyeing  him  curiously  the  while.-    "  If  we  could 

use  his  evidence " 

"  I  take  it,  sir,  yre  can  use  it  by  the  time  we  want  it." 
"  Ay ;  byt  in  the  mean  time  tTiis  poor  man  will  get  en- 
tangled, perhaps,  beyond  help."  / 
The  constable  still  looked  curiously  and  inquiringly. 
«  The  maid,  sir  ?     Lucy  Barbury  ?  "  suggested  he,  by 
way  of  amendment  to  the  word  "  man,"  in  the  Minister's 
sentence. 

•     "  No ;  I  was  thinking  of  this  American,— Mr.  Bangs." 
«  But  it  won't  do  him  any  hainr,  sir ;  will  it  ? "  asked 
Gilpin,  still  puzzled. 
The  Minister  answered  : — 

•*  To  be  sure,  he  wasn't  a  churchman  before ;   but  I 
should  be  very  sorry,  nevertheless,  to  see  him  become  a 
papist     If  he  should  see  this  plot,  i^  might  cune  him." 
^  "He  sees  it  fast  enough,  sir,  or  I'm  much  mistaken," 
said  the  constable. 

"  But,"  answered  Mr.  Wellon,  « I  can't  think  he  under- 
stands the  whole  thing ;  and  if  he  could  be  rescued " 

«  From  Father  O'Toole,  sir  ?    The  Yankee  '11  take  care 
of  himself,  I'll  go  bail.     We  needn't  trouble  ourselves 


^ji*: 


'^  ^"**  ^  ^  '^'^Fn  ~ 


'.  '^-f  i 


T  «T«3?n' 


OTHER  StJSPICIOtJS  PERSONS. 


229 
»g.    If  he  H  up  to  M,y  of  em,  he's  no  Yankee     I^s 

tor  Mr.  Bangs  was  bl6™  away.    "It's  strange  that  he 
should  get  in  there,"  said\e. 

«  They've  been  too  cunjng,  and  not  cunning  enough  " 
answered  Ae  constable.  «Vhey  thought  he'd  irevt; 
body  he'd  been  aU  over  the  ph«e,  and  people  would  ZZ 

17    4  t\  ""'"'  ''  "'"^  ^'"'"''  "^'^  «»  'e'  ™  ^ 
Father  N.cholas,  there,  thought  h*  could  keep  un  Je 

enough  ;  but  he  didn't  think  about  his  hat ' »_ 

So,  this,  evening,  the  old  suspicion,  setting  towards  B«v- 

Harbor,  and  the  nuns  and  priests  there!  possessed  the 

Bince  Lucy  Barbuiy  was  lost 


iJ 


).[• 


». 


230 


THE  MEW  PBIEST. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


MR.   BANGS    HA^    AN   INTERVIEW   WITH    THE   HEAD    OP 

THE   MISSION. 

iE  left  Mr.' Bangs  at  Bay-Harbor,  in  charge  of 
Father  Nicholas,  coming  from  the  nunnery, 
which  he  had  just  inspected.  Bnder  tlie  same 
sacerdotal  guidance,  lie  walked  towards  the  priests'  quar- 
ters. '  ' 

They  passed-into  the  hall.  Father  Nicholas  leading,  and 
awaited,  next,  the  result  of  th©  fetter's  knocking  thrice 
upon  an  inner  door.  ;  '  ^  • 

The  wofd  «  Enter,"  surrounded,  so  to  speak,  by  a  «onnd 
of  bustle,— much  as  a  word  is  written  by  painters  in  a  sur- 
rounding of^cloud,--called  them  to  the  "  dignitary^s  "  pres- 
ence. He  sat,  sedate,  in  his  wide  chair,— his  dress  care- 
fully arranged  in  his  style  of  state,— and  was  intent,  in 
studious  zeal,  upon  a  book.  Looking  up  gravely  from 
his.  work,  he  fidgetea  a  little,  trying  to  wear  a  calm,  high 
-dignity,  in  waiting  for  an.  explanation  of  the  visit,— 
(which,  by  the  way,  it  may  be  thought  he  understood 
beforehand,)— and  ended  with  a  kindly  bustle  of  bringing 
chairs. 

«Thi^  ffpntleman,   Reverend  'Father  Terence,  is  an  ' 
American,  descended  from  an  eminent  stock  in  the  re- 
public 


Sf^^t..^\^ 


,pOi>T'Jp»?J- 


MB.  BANGS  HAS  AN  INTEKVIEW. 


23^ 

«o«^  r,  /.         •'^'       ^    '^er-tm,.  said  Mr.  Bane-s^ 

'and  he  professes  a  desire  tn   k«  „        •    ''  "^S^O— 

(a^.n^  ^ooU.,  .„w  bo.  f..  ,,e  digni^,  :::''',;^^ 

"And,by  a-strailge  forchuitoiis  accident,  what  ihouid 

-^    ,  ""™  "pon  that  very  countrv '     Tt'»  . 

rare  work,  top,  I'm  thinkin-      TV«  i.        """'v-     «sa 
ume    whiVh   T,        ""™'"-     i™  here  the  second   vol- 

the™e     I-m'Tf     '"•'"'°"  """"t^  ^)  "■«'  ■'«  '■«"  ''"' 
<«."  ""'  ""'  "  ">*"=  '"'*''«-  <^0Pyivit  ex. 


|:i 


a 


^HMQihouf^iliiil  credible  writers  onTffiat 


ooun- 


•i- 


232 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


try  could  %e^ found  with  less  trouble,  and  in' a  complete 
form." 

"Ay;  but,  d'ye  see?  it's  but  little  they've  known  of 
writing  and  the  like  o'  that,— those  Amerikyins,— until 
those  late  years,  (the  most  o'  thim,  that  is,)  being  all 
mostly  savage  Indgins,  I  suppose,  (with  a  small  sprinkhng 
of  Europyins  and  Irish,  certainly.)  Some  o'  thim  took 
to  learning,  I  suppose,  naturaUy,  for  the  man  here's  got  a 
name  of  his  own  that  would  puzzle  a  Tom'hawk  himself, 
—(that's  one  of  their  tribes,  d'ye  know  ?  as  they  call 
them.)  To  be  sure,  the  most  of  it  seems  to  be  in  plain 
English,  surely ;  but  then,  d'ye  see  ?  the  great  learning 
that's  here,  undoubtedly,  all  in  the  original .  tongue,"  said 
Father  O'Toole,  shuttmg  the  book. 

«  Have  prou  mastered  the  *  original,'  then,  already,  in 
your  retirement,  and  without  a  teacher  ?  What  a  figure 
you'd  have  made  in  the  Sacred  Congregation,  or  in  our 
Coll^i^t  Rome,  to  be  sure !  " 

The  portly  personage  complimented  thus,  rose  up  to 
put  away  the  book,  While  the  younger  priest,  with  a  gr^ve 
courtesy,  followed  him,  and,  asking  permission  to  look  at 
the  learned  treatise,  secured  it,  when  laid  down,  and  read 
aloud  "  Diedrich  Knickerbocker,"  as  th^  author's  na^e, 
and  added,  as  comment,  «  What  a  Dutch-sounding  name 
it  is  I " 

"  Ye  may  say  that;  and  ye'll  remember,  be-the-by,sthe 
Dutch  has  much  trade  with  the  Indies  and  the  neighbor- 
ing parts,  and  has  had,  those  many  years.  It's  to  be 
feared  they've  been  teaching  them  their  own  religion,  too, 
mostly."  .  ' 

The  other  inquired  : — 

I*  Do  you  find  this  writer  orthodox  ?  The  name  sounds 
asif  it^ught,  fairly,  to  be  foimd  in  the  jh^^^^^   : '  Difidrir>htnji_ 


n 


;.  i-T-;-^-f  ^- •p-T-j;\i^p-'^  f-iT.f-i: 


W 


I 


BANGS  HAS  AN  INTERVIEW. 


_         ^v  ^  238 

Knicker^ker.   Storia  di  NuovaJA..!. 

impressa4"  :  ^"OT,|JiPork,  quacnmque  lingua 

at  Ihemc    It's  onlv  AiJ.-        ' ''".*  ""^l^'  <»n  get  a  loot 
get  at  the  rn^rj  rff  lu'tT  "  '^  ''"  ■"""•  J-* "» 

take  up  the  old  anncient  ftith  »       '^""^;)-"  and  ««>• 

much '8  anvthinir  ,h,tT        .  r"  '    wnvietion,  's 

that  hy™n,i?;otte  i:r„^;:''r  ^r  •  ^^'^ 

When  I  can  leave  this  load  o'  clay 

And  stretch  nxyiin^bs,  and  soar  away, 
And  breathe  the  upper  air; 

*    tT.m^J''*  ^''^  ^^'•^^  ««  »Ii  to  smashj 
1 11  hft  my  head  above  the  crash. 

And  take  fast  hold  by  prayer. 

'  "  ^^^  ^ay  Elder  Tertullus  Taylor  used  to  i^V.  *i.  . 
at  El^tham   Camp-Meeting  ^^171  A!,  ^'^ 
There  I     You  know,  he  Vs'a  ll;  tin^  of  alb"^ 
chap,  an'  when  he  come  to  '  load  o'oT'u     ^  .'^""^''^^^ 
«houlde.,  ,ou   see,   so  flil?"  .dol'  ^e  wnggled  his 

"an!  pulled  an' tugged 'tTraLl-tn       *'   ^'   ^*'> 
whenhegotto^LtchXrh:^^^^^^^^^ 

*  f  his  exposition,  used  bv  Mr  Ro«««    *  xu 

°>iy  give  archwoloKi^ts  an  LZi..T.,      **"*  ^^''^^  «^  ««'  story, 
^^^^^^^^^^^^    oiogste^n^unegec^  tha  i.g^<.fih»^    — - 


'J 


\ 


.i<.         .-li^-^fj)    -^  0)    -;^'^>,U.Ji!l^i^ 


234 


Tm  NEW  PRIEST. 


-> 


/ 


the  most  I  can  compare  it  to  was, wall,  he  up  'th  this 

a^m,  'th  the  book  in  it,  an'  then  t'other,  an'  kicked  down 
his  legi^  jest 's  if  he  was  g?)in'  to  stick  the  hymn-book 
away  up  through  somew'er's,  an'  go  right  up  after  it. 
Why,  all  the  old  women,  'nfost,  put  right  out  to  git  hold 
of  him  by  the  heels,  &r  what  not,  singin'  <  Ghry ! '  jest  as 

tight  's  they  could  stretch. ^But,  as  you  say,"— (i^p- 

body  but  himself  said  any  thing,)— "  this  ain't  the  ques- 
tion now.  Question,  is ;  What's  about  the  shortest  an' 
quickest  way  o'  gitting  ^fc  this  CathoUc  i-eligion  ?  's  you 
may  say." 

In  the  presence  of  this  active  elocutionist,  Father  Ter- 
ence looked,  for  the  moment,  as  if  the  worid  that  he  be- 
longed to  had  been  knocked  away  somewhere,  and  he- 
himself  h^d  .tumbled  down  anwng  strange  things  and 
people.  Of  course  his  apparatus,  argumentative,  was  as 
useless  as  a  battery  of  cannon  against  a  freshet  or  other 
incongruity.  He  almost  instinctively  glanced  around  at 
the  odd  volume  of  Knickerbocker's  heretical  History, 
which  the  Holy  Father  {Sanctissimus  Noster,)  has  put 
upon  the  prohibitory  Index,  but  which  he  had  had  in  hand, 
before  this  unusual  encounter. 

Father  Nicholas,  for  whatever  cause,  adapted  himself 
at  once  to  the  character  of  the  man,  and  said,  with  grave 
appreciation  of  the  American's  perfoi-mance,  (which  had 
been  given  with  as  thorough  zest  as  if  he  had  had  a  sly 
fancy  for  astonishing  the  old  priest,)  «  That  seems  to  be 
to  the  life,  Mr.  Bangs.  You  appropriate^the  religion  you 
belong  to  and  make  it  your  own ;  and  if  you  once  take 
the  ti-ue  faith  fairly  in,  no  doubt  will  naturalize  that,  also. 
It's  just  the  thing  for  an  independent  thinker." 

"  Guess  I  should ;  make  no  kind  o'  doub,t  of  it ;  and 
that's  the  way.   Your  folks  '11  find  it  out  one  o'  tb^ae  days, 


^ 


■■^j^s^ 


f  ^r ' 


MB.  BANGS  HAS  AN  INTEEVIEW.     -  286 

and  do  accoriing.    I  tell  ye  what  it  is  •  -tTI  ..t 

smart  thap,  and  he'll  h„       "'"\"''-   « 1  take  a  pretty 

ketch  our  real  Yall™,"^''"''  "''  ^'"'^^^ 
winkin-  madonnys  „rii7f  1'     '  ""*  "'  '»*'"'  "•«»" 

...;e.to.eu£th:r::;zro.^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

>Vhy,  lor,  jes'  to  consider  that  t^e  Almiehtv  't  VnT 
what  a  man's  soul  '»  «,.,*i.    i.     , ,      -"-^migntj,  t  knows 
o-  wk  i-^Twt  :"*'"">"'"  ««'  -lo™  to  that  sort 

Js^rtir  ^*"'^'^««-«^>-  tte  nneatholic  .nind 
of  the  g;eat  R  "L  eril*'^  ""  '"^»«'-''-  »orf»' 

science      aT*^  ^      .        '™"''    "^"""  department  o' 

science.     A%r.a  man's  onee  made  up  his  iiiind  then  V. 

-oodds;  gi™  him  punkin  and  teU  hi  it's  cl^  •'.' 

•  tCtkt trr'  'r  '^'-  -• "-  ■-'  -^-^' 

tney  make   ny  bones  about  it :    why  'f  vn.i  o'n  ^  i 

r  t '!"'  r  ''^^•^^^-^  '-*-  'u  m2  e  g^::^ 

foo-that  ,8,  fuUahs  for  Catholics  a^oin      TK.  miT  • 
the  fuUahs  for  mirycles  'ri^  iZ       -  ^^^^  "  ^«  J««* 

Why  take  me,  ^'-^^  rS'l-rCt^^ir'^r  " 

see  and  T  ^'''  ""**  ™  '""k  <„ow  you  can't 

le  thl's  '^•'."'  r  ^'^'  «">  "•«"  I  ««''  "nd  then  tel 

Hereabouts  Mr.  O-Toole  seemed  to  ha™  found  his  feet 


'woUpIced  to  hear  him  talk  Aat-way,  and  that  b. 


1  t,  jSio*'--.^  » J 1. 


'^M 


2d6 


THE  NEW  PBIEST. 


would  show  him  as  much  as  he  could  reasonably  expect 
of  the  like  of  that." 

"I  s'pose  I'm  'bout's  ignorant  o'  this  nunnery  business 
's  any  thing,  pooty  nigh ;  haven't  got  the  harig  of  it. 
yet "  ^         ^ 

"  Indeed  you  needn't  be  botherin'  yerself  about  these . 
holy  houses  at  all,  for  it's  small  concern  ye'U  have  with 
them,  anny  way,  unless  ye've  a  sister  or  cousin,  or  the 
like  o'  that,  ye'd  want  to  devote  to  the  service  of  God; 
but  we'U  put  ye  into  the  direct  way  of  learning  all  the' 
whole  order  and  system  of  the  Catholic  religion,  all  out, 

meself  will  discourse  ye,  and  Father  Nicholas,  here, 

he  that  was  here,  a  moment  since,  anny  way,  for  it's  not 

here  now  that  he  is, we'll  all  take  ye  in  hand,  and 

we'll  make  short  arid  sure^work  of  ye,  if  ye're  ready  for 
it,"  and  Father  Terence  proceeded  to  lay  down  a  pro- 
gramme for  the  impending  course  of  teaching. 
,  ^  "Me  good  sir,  ye'll  consider,  ye  know,  my  avycations, 
in  some  degree  ;  but  a  jue  proportion  of  me  time  shall  be' 
given,  doubtless,  to  the  important  work  ye're  proposing. 
Yerself '11  mostly  give  yer  whole  time  to  it,  iv  course." 

During  this  speech  the  Reverend  Father  took  down  his 
pipe  frfm  his  mouth,  filled   and—after  a  good  deal  of 
exereTse  with  a  flint  and  steel,  between  which  too  great 
familiarity  had  bred  a  mutual  contempt— lighted  it.  " 
• '  "  Guess  I  c'd  git  ye  some  '  the  real  stuff,  'n  th'  way  o' 

t'bacca,  't  less  'n  cost  and  no  commission, but,  sir, 

'bout  this  religion-business,— when  sh'll  I  call  ?"  said  Mr! 
Bangs,  killing  two  birds  with  one  stone,  whether  he  aimed 
at  two  or  not.        _■.        ,,,,^.,.,4.  ,^,       ,v 

"Ye'll  just  come  everyday,  beginning  the  morrow— 
not  too  early,  ye  know,  be  rason  iv  the  church  juties. 
Yerself 'U  desire  an  hour  or  twro  for  early  devotion  and 


"V 


t^'t- 


MR.  BAKGS  HAS  AK  INTEBVIEW.  237 

mediMon,  and  wiU  pmctice  abstinence ,  takin'  yer  tea  o* 

like.  In  the  meanwhile  ve'll  nut  ™.  ti,  t 
things  chiefly:  the  fi-Jt  Wi  ™  T  ^  ^"®  "  "•*"  '™ 
Ch.ls.,  that'f  His  HoleTl'p'e  *:  ""  """^  "' 
ye  believe  as  the  Chrh  Me^^^Z?'  .rf '  ''''' 
Church  that's  never  changed?  Z,  ^■.  *  *""""*"' 
no  doubt,  if  ye  consider  .iTf  .      '  "  «^*'  ''«'?• 

Wo,-d  of  oi  .        n  ™^"  *"''  '''*'»'7  and  the 

iiji,  yare  not  that  ignorant  o'  thp  h«i^  t   *• 

f'  ,         v""es>now,  fcrsl  know,) — est 'cross  Jnte 

m  our  house.-S-pose  Va  this  Nunnly   1  hTany 

«..ng,  made  me  thi,,k  -f  her.  ^sed  to  st^k  'n  m'  cZ 

here -Z-T'T.'"'"'  ""^  ""^  ^  ^'"^  '^a  'S 
"  si  si^hT '".""' J""^  and  going  on  ,ike  a  le«„„")    ^ 

wall  yT2  r      ""  "'^'  ''''  '"  ^™''-««'«  «  I*«n,_ 
wa  I,  ts  what  ye  may  caU  a  awallah— 'n  sometim..  .1  . 

un^^ertake  to  git  someth'n  down,  't.  nunt^^'^^^Z. 

•ration  from  comparative  anatomy,  he  w.^  giviil,  tfT 

were qmte  new  with  himself.  ^™*'"^" 

^ut'^tte^:^^: "" '"  *^  ■"""  "^  '^'-^ 


-01 


ercSnvehieiii^^d  itTl  helpon 


■'f^ 


238 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


^l 


li^'^r'^ 


the  conversion,  it's  likely,  and  be  a  good  thing  to  meself, 
at  the  same  time,  being  at  the  beginning  of  an  affair  hke 
the  present.  Ye'U  follow  me,  just,  and  do  what  je  see 
me  b^  doing." 

Down  went  the  reverend  gentleman,  as  they  entered 
the  sacred  door,  crossing  himself,  touching  himself  with 
Holy  Water,  and  going  through  a  prayer,  apparently,  but 
with  a  half-glance  towards-  his  companion,  now  arid  then,, 
who  went  through  some  performances  of  his  own,  \diich 
bore  but  a  very  far-off  likeness  to  those  of  his  prototype. 

"  Will  ye  have  the  kindness  just  to  employ  yerself  in 
meditation  ?  or,  if  ye  please  to  go  out,  I'll  say  nothing 
against  it ;  I've  some  sacred  occupation,  here,  for  a  bit, 
and  I'll  join  ye  in  the  course  of  a  few  .minutes,  it's 
likely,"  said  th^  worthy  priest. 

Mr.  Bangs  accepted  the  latter  alternative,  with  the 
assurance,  "  Wall,  sir ;  jest  's  you  say.  'T's  indifferent 
to  me;"  and  having  occasion  tojook  in,  soon  after,  he 
saw  the  priest  engaged  appar^tly  quite  in  earjiest,  in 

devotion  before  the  altar.  i 

,  i  , 

When  he  Ipoked  in  a^rj,  he  saw  two  figures  get  up, 
where  he  had  seen  bu^li^  go  down^  and  recognized,  in 
the  doubje,  Father  Ni|lholas. 

Mr.  O'Toole,  as  ^11  as  could  be  judged,  was  taken  by 
surprise  himself;  #nd  as  our  American  drew  in  .again 
within  the  chape^  he  heard  the  last  words  of  a  short  con- 
versation whi^h  had  Aeady  taken  place  between  the 
priests,  while  they  came  forward  toward  the  door.  Fa- 
ther Nicholas  was  saying,  "  Your  wisdom  and  experience 
may  make  something  out  of  him  in  that  way,  which  I 
have  no  hope  to  give  any  efficient  help  in,  if  it  were 
needed.  I  se^,  perhaps,  another  w^y  in  which  he  may 
beuflefuL" 


MR.  BAKGS  HAS  AN  INTERVIEW. 


239 

have  begu.  .„  iU^ZZXJ^'  ^^  ^"^  »«'"* 
of  discourse.  ^^^  ^^  "«'  t^e  subject 

"  We  are  together  again,  it  seems  Mr  n 
tinued  quietly,  in  thela^;  tone  and  ^'    ^"^   '"'  ~°- 
meet  in  a  good  place"  (.rL       u  "'"'*'''  """d  "« 

low  voice,  1  to  ^ZLZZf'r'^r:''^-^ '"  ■» 

place  lilte  this."  '^  ^  *P'  y°"  A-^'  ^i'it  to.  a 

'ant  meetin's  ,Iw  thV  1T       ,''"'  "^'"'^  '"  ^™'«-  " 

•e™,  ro,  Masiachusetts  <:::„«:,;:;!!!  »"*  ■-"  of 

fe'er's  relic',  'r  someb'dy-s  .     t,„    ""="'  ''"'"'  *"  «  ""»- 
V.l>e.ca„  witbouti\„.  tTtC  alT"  "'  ""' 

"We  have  handsomer  places  fhiin  ^k- 

a  few,  and  a  g<«d  deal  C^ '■^aZrT'l' ''"' 
smiling.  ^    '    ^^  leather  Nicholas, 

However,  thafa  Mr      ^  J",'  "''""^-I've  he«M._ 
tin     y!      '*''° '!»<">:  "^ablo  kind  of  a  church  cer 

able  ArttS-VeT  r";  ^"""T  "■"  ^-"''''"  •»•  Ho-icr- 
and  what  nolLp    I^h'"^ "./"""t""   '"'  »  ~ 

-"'•^"'  -any  w:::;.:i:s  it:  """'"•"  '■.°"'  -'"■ 

I'ucicieberries   in  «   .1         .  ^  '^®"  **'  >«*  like 

lough  >th:ids  j^^^Tr '":  -•'  -  the 


^Mr.mnFliem,  to  oonfbunfTtwo  word.. 


^Bi 


240 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


) 


this :  tike  a  mess  o'  flour,  and  make  it  into  a  kind  *f  a 
batter,  or  whatever  you  may  call  it,  and  then  stir  iti  your 
— wall,  that  ain't  exactly  what  I's  goin'  to  say.  That  Saint 
Peter's  must  be  great.  You  see  the  Protestants  ain't 
likely  t'  stand  *ny  sort  o'  comparison  'n  the  way  'f 
meet'n'-houses,  b'c'se  they  think  religion  ain't  s'  much  t* 
be  looked  at,  's  to  be  joined  in." 

"  It's  refreshing  to  hear  your  hearty  descriptions,  Mr. 
Bangs,  though  your  abundant  information,  upon  points 
with  which  your  friends  are  not  always  familiar,  leads 
you  a  little  wide,  sometimes.  Did  you  talk  with  the  very 
Reverend  Father  O'Toole  about  the  houses  of  God  ?  " 

"  Wall,  he  seemed  t'  fight  ruther  shy  of  'em,  I  thought. 
On'y  wish  those  ffellahs  't  Peterport  c'd  see  all  I  saw  " — 

"  We  sjiall  arrange  to  send  any  messages  or  communi- 
cations thai  you  may  desire,"  said  Father  Nicholas. 
**  Your  own  lime  will  be  much  occupied  at  first.  I' vie  got 
a,  pleasant  family  for  you  to  stay  in,  close  at  hand  here ; 
and  Father  Terence,  no  doubt,  will  arrange  hours,  and  so 
forth." 

Mr.  Bangs  had  got  into  a  business-like  arrangement, 
by  which  the  sun-  of  independence  was  to  be  considerably 
shorn  of  his  beams.  He  took  it,  however,  very  genially,  - 
and  as  the  priest  left  him  to  await  Father  Terence's  re- 
newed attention,  he  spread  a  blue  handkerchief,  doubled, 
on  the  ground,  and  taking  a  newspaper  out  of  his  hat,  sat 
down  to  read. 


f^-.il.'-l'  •»_    .  .■•^ojl 


ANOTHER  BEUC  FOUND. 


241 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

ANOTHER  RELIC  FOUND. 

HE   bed  stood  in  the  little-  room  at  SkiD«>, 
Geoi^e',,   unchanged, except    in    havinfL 

round  of  dutiea  that  «  «>  utte^ 'at  aH  J^^Tr"' ** 
It  fancied  calls ,  thev  find  .1,;™.  ^''*y  "««rt 

.0  things  no  ^oCZ^XZTZT^!:''^''^  ' 
l-<en  sometimes,  and  then  ««!  Chattel      ''  *"' 
now  whose  light  sleep  may  be  b™k    .f  U'^Zr" 

--aint.4Jrer:in;?C:r;tSI 
kead   has  lir„n„„  ,!!  ""'  ""^     ^^  '"""'-"ho™ 

^s^fifo::.?!,^;^-^™-^^ 

18  ' 


*^t^    'I*     r^-rf— I -f»(^ 


S42 


THE  NEW  PfilEST. 


'  whose  hands  have  done  iso '  many  pretty  thing*  or  played 
us  suoh  sweet  tricks  of  merryhood — whose  look^  whose 
Ifitwghj-whose  sleep,  whose  waking,  ha^  each  such  beauty 
of  its  |Hra — has  gone  like  morning  mist  melted  in  air,, 
like  the  blue  cloud  of  smoke  scattered  forever ;  like  the 
word  spoken,  like  the  bubble  broken. 
•      Skipper  George  knew  nothing  of  the  speculations  and 
suspicions  of  his  friends  and  neighbors,  and  of  their  infor- 
mation gained.     They  knew  liim  well  enough  never  to 
speak  of  these  to  him  ;  and  it  was  specially  enjoined  and 
urged  on  all  occasions,  by  the   Minister  and  constable, 
that  nothing  should  be  said  to  him  about  them.     His  wife 
heard  more — ^hoped  and  feared  more,  no  doubt,  but  yet 
U)ok  her  prevailing  feeling  from  the  strong,  steady  char- 
acter of 'her  liusband,  and  never  told  him  of  her  hopes 
^nd  fears. 

The  need  of  sorrowing  hearts  (as,  -indeed,  men's  need 
at  all  times)  is  faith  in  Go<^  and  work ;  this  they  both 
kne#and  acilid  on;  yet  she  would  sometimes  sit  down 
quietly  ^o  weep,  and  he^'would  sometimes  lean  against  the 
door-post  of  the  little  room,  and  lose  himself  in  sad  mem- 
ories.; ' 

During  this  time  of  planning  and  consultation  in  Peter- 
port,  and  searching  for/information,  another  memorial  of 
the  lost  girl  earner  to^and ;  such  evidence  as  it  contrib- 
uted was  from  an  jrfiwishe^-for  quarter.     This  was  a  silk 

'neck-kerchief,  tsilfen  from  the  water  a  little  farther  down, 
toward  Castle>Bay  Point,  than  where  the  former  relic 
had  been  recovered. 

The  man  who  brought  it  said  that  he  had  seen  it  in 
passing  with  his  p^nt  along  that  shore,  as  it  clung  to  a 
rock,  and  was  tossed  up  and  down  vith  the  wash.  ^The 

-doilr  WW  wet  with  iiriiiij^  iiid^^r  tirmiftf  pi6^ 


't*--  *,*ia 


'■^peof^ 


ANOTHEB'HHJO  FOOIID.  243 

«ome  oH  flymen,  who  «w  and  hmdied  jt  «ft^  it  w 
been  «cog„„ed  ^  having  belonged  io  W^ll^ 

water     Ita  fabnc  was  sound  and  good,  though  it  W..  ! 
good  deal  smeared  with  sea-weed  fid  the  «nte  m^st 
have  b^n  „^    before  it  had  ever  gone  into  thTdeer 
^  The  finder  showed  the  place  where  it  was  found ,  and 
.   .  .t  seemed  strange  that  it  could  have  been  descried  in  s^h 
place,  unless  by  one  searching.     So  masoned  the  pWn 
flshermen   and  they  l«,ied  with  much  snspiciorat^^ 
t  .ng  (at  last)  because  the  man,  th6ugh  he  .Tld  an  W' 

TC^  1     ^^"^"f '  """^  ""'»«''  '^y  -M-i  "ot  doubt 
h.8  word,  they  "considered,"  as  they  said,  that  "he  might 

■on  that  the  Missmg  was  drowned.     They  said,  « her   • 
body  was  jiot  in  the  sea,  but  somewber*  eW'  •     ' 

tnn  .  r^^'if.'*""'"*^  whether  they  ooBld  keep  the    ' 
knowledge  of  this  new  discovery-  <™m  Skipper  oLel 
and  d,tennmed  at  least  to  tty  it.     Xhey  g'^thT^, 
ch,ef,  therefore,  ,n  trust  to  the  Minister.    ,  ThS  bew.. 
however,  got  to  the  father,  as  news  always^ill,  and  the 
nettiaj  he  presented  himself,  with  his  r^uest^lT' 

Mee  thinks  best  to  give  me  what -ee've  got,  mtM   • 
be  thankful  over  it"  -  .  (5oi.»ir,ia    ^ 

He  took  the  reKc  in  his  hand,  wipid  off  the  tea™  that 
"  "P°"  "-  "^  »*  '«"«*.  '"dling  it  over,  said- 
Ihose  a*  cruel,  grmdmg  teeth,  if  they  hole.  we»      ■ 
made  by  the  rocks."  ,;  '  '^ 

Nothing  could  be  more  expre&ive  than  wW  he  uM. 
and  h,s  way  of  saying  it,  aSd  «.ying  nothJngCre.     So 
g'°:^"i^jhejender^l^^^ 
wponOioge  sharp  rocks  I 


f 


.'-x 


i'S^*r»*f"' 


■/1 1" 


m. 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


r  There  are  worse  teeth  in  the  water  than  those  of  the 
sharp  ixx^s : — Did  the  father  think  of  those,  as  ^pi^her 
would  think  of -them,  from  his  words  \  Were  his  thoughts 
for  his  lost  child  as  quick  as  other  men's  ?  «  > 

"I  cannot  think  her  lost  yet,  Skipper  George,"  the 
Minister  answered,  saying  as  much  as  he  would  venture. 
T3he  father  still  held  the  kerchief  under  his  eyes,  as  he 
^'sttid : —     ' 

"  There  was.  a  coa|;  of  many  colors'  .that  had  been 
on   a  dear   child,  brought  home  to'  his  father,  tand  'e. 
thoughran  evil  beast  had  devoured  un  ;  but  the  lad  was 

n*  dead, thank  Grod ! — ^I  don*  -know  where  my  child 

is,  but  He've  got  her." 

He  looked  up  in  Mr.  Wellon's  face,  as  he  j&nished  this 
.sentence,  Imd  it  was  like  the  clearing  off  of  the  dark  sky, 
that  broad,  peaceful  look  of  his. 

He  folded  the  cloth  tenderly,  and  bestowed  it  in  his  inner 
jackei-pockef^and  departed.  •  He  had  now  two  recovered 
memorials  of  his  Lucy,  since  her  loss.  '^ 

His  errand  was  up  the  harbor ;  aqd  as  he  passed  out 
of  the  drung  from  Mr.  Wellon's,  young  Urston,  who  wias 
thii^nd  pale,  but  had  thrown  himself  into  hard  work  at 
Messrs.  Worner,  Grose  &  Co.'8,  met  him,  and  having 
respectfully  saluted  him,  walked  silently  at  his  side,  an- 
swering questions  only.  At  length  the  young  man  broke 
the  silence  for  himself. 

"  I  think  we  can  trace  her,  now,"  he  said,  hurriedly,  as 
if  he  thought  he  scarcely  h$id  a  right  to  speak  of  Lucy  to 
h&%  father.  Skipper  George  turned  upon  him  an  eye 
n^ild  as  a  woman's,  and  said, — 

'  '"  James,  thou  doesn'  know,  yet,  what  an  old  father's 
heart  is.  See,  here's  an  old  huU  wi'  a  piece  knocked 
into  hof  gide^f  aad^Jve  laid  her  over  upon  4lie4'^tfiW'  lddir= 


r- 


ANOTHEB  RELIC  FOPND. 
and  after  al,it  I'U  xnubbe  get  aU  mended  up,  and  t^ 
agam  and  then  I'U  go  about,  an'  never  fea,  •  b^  ef^ee 
keeps  her  on  the  bn>ken  side,  James,  afore  we'vfpa teh^ 
her  and  stanched  her.  in  comes  the  sea,  James,  Ld  st^ 
go  down  heavy  and  solid,  afore  'ee  can  mak;Ta^d     i 

"bt;  Tf  t  T^"'  '^^  ""^  ^~^'  ^«  another  sky;, 

but  ef  ee  ye  anj  thing,  go  to  the  Pareson,  lovie-^ur 

Pare8on,-an'  'e'U  hear  it  j "  and  so  James  TTr«Z       ^ 

of  his  hope  no  more.  ^*^°  'P**^® 


/ 


^• 


•■     / 


"J«f??Sr  ',1     T  ^s,     r.-^-^  - 


r46^ 


*p»t"W-7'f  »,'v-»"--S5;  >" 'Jji'^'^r'Jg^J^Si^ 


TH£  NBW  PRIEST. 


<♦ 


t 


CHAPTER  XXVIIL 


ME.  BANGS   A   NEOPHYTE. 


1» 


OW,  the  worthy  priesty)f  Bay-Harbor,  having 
Mr.  Bangs  in  his  hands  to  be  converted,  felt,  or 
began  to  feel,  therdifficulties  of  that  relation.    T*o 
keep  up  dignity  and  authority,  to  convince  the  mind  a^ 
engage  tl^e  heart  of  this  representative  of  the  great  Re- 
pubUc,  were  so  many  different  objects  in  one.     The  case 
was,  in  a  measure,  like  that  of  the  "  Angli  quasi  An- 
geUy"  standing  for  v,  pale  in  the  market  of  Rome,  whose 
beauty  led  Po^e  Gregory  the   Gnlat  to  undertake  the 
Christianizing  of  their  nation,  i   This  individual  American 
■was  no  beauty,  certainly,  but  he  was  from  a  foreign  he- 
retical nation,  and  by  his  own  account,  scarce  any  of  his 
countrymen  knew  any  thing  of  the  true  faith.  Mr.  Bangs's 
accoimt  was,  "  Th'  have  made  a  convert  'r  two.     S'pose 
ye've  seen  a  poor  f 'saken-lookin'  chickin,  pokin^afier  a  lot 
o*  pi — '  animals,  and  hangin'  on  to  'em,  fo'  company? 
1  e  want  somethin  a  little  mite  stronger."    Father  O'Toole 
was  convinced  that,  (as  Father  Nicholas  also  had  said,) 
the^  opportunity  was  a  golden  one,  and  must  not  be  left  go. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  ecclesiastical  combatant,  finding 
himself  in  possession  of  such  a  prisoner,  who  had  been 
taken  " nee  gladio,  nee  arcu"  (suo,) — by  no  weapon  of 
hifl  own^!— and  was  as  multitudinous,  in  hla  ftpi.ivity.  aa  the  _ 


f  ■•  ■-}■■■--: 


.■fe,&wfflpj 


'.. 


MB.  BANGS  A  NEOPHYTE.  {47 

once  took  by  surrounding  them,  felt  the  difficulty  ofi^ 
.a,mng  the  authority  and  dig„i,y,  and,  at  the  same  ^ 
^.nvmcmg  the  head  and  persuading  the  heart,  ^^^7 
be  done,  «ug  to  the  prog^m^e  of  hiH^e^I 

Under  the  circumatancea,  he  add«ssed  hiLTrhi, 
labor,  m  the  bravest  manner  possible.  "^"  •<>  "^ 

Mr.  Bangs,  whose  habits  and  principles  led  Urn  to  use 

.me  as  .t  went,  was  anions  not  to  be  unoccupiTd  X 

en  enng  „p„„  a,^  „„^^  ^  ^  conversion  »d  ftl 

stigated  m  a  way  very  unusual  to  him,  and  Which  rhnU 
wony  hm.  somewhat,  and  flur^  him  k  goo^  d^L^a 

g.veh,m  many  solicitudes  most  unaccustomT  n.^ 
posed  convert,  finding  the  priest's  way  of  p™;eei„/^ 

whose  only  rehef  was  in  iti  weaknesses,  tooku^^^S 

TbTw^"!.::-^--'---.-:::^"  ■ 

anc?:Mh?'eor^rhlT"'~"™«'^ 'P'- 
»^.yhe  ar^nZlMriatrTn-r::!  :r' 

aC/ter  ''"J-""""*.  7»-P«.bably  flshennan-acting 
aiv,,,,        ^     *  ^P  '^~"«''  which  Mr.  Banes  v™. 


"*%  fcnnri  ,„«ioh,  ascertained  from  the  visitor  iU 


^  j^t  ^"V 


/^l    I 


248 


THE  NEW  PBIEST. 


he  wished  to  see  the  very  Reverend  Father  OToole, 
first  showed  hun  into  «  The  Library,"  with  some  awk- 
wardness and  much  gravity,  and  left  him  to  wait  until 
the  doorkeeper  had  found  out  whether  the  Father  was  at 
home,  and  whether  he  was  disengaged. 

"  Tell  him,"  said  Mr.  Bangs — the  manner  and  matter 
confusing  the  mind  of  the  occasional  domestic — "  not  to 
put  himself  out  one  mite  on  niy  account.  ''F  he  hasn't 
prepared  'mself,  I  suppose  't  '11  keep."  The  speaker, 
while  saying  this,  combed  up  his  hair  from  each  side  to 
the  top  of  his  head,  with  a  small  implement  taken  from 
his  waistooat-pocket,  and  seated  himself  with  legs  crossed 
and  foot  swinging,  opposite  the  door. 

On  i^eceiving  the  announcement  that  Father  O'Toole 
expected  Jiim  in  the  opposite  ro9m,  Mr.  Bangs  rather  led 
than  followed  the  man  to  the  Reverend  Father's  presence. 
The  occupant  of  the  room  was  alone,  sitting  with  a  book 
in  his  hand,  himself  dressed  with  the  utmost  care  that  he 
ever  bestowed  on  the  adornment  of  his  person.  Thus  he 
sat  gravely  awaiting,  and  very  grave  and  dignified  was 
his  salutation  to  his  visitor. 

« '  Haven't  come  b'fore  ye're  ready,  I  hope.  Father 
O'Toole?"  said  the  candidate  for  conversion,  unabashed, 
or,  at  any  rate,  not  remaming  abashed  by  the  formality. 
.Then,  seating  himself  opposite  to  the  Priest,  with  his  hat 
beside  his  chair,  he  gave  that  gentleman  the  inspiriting 
intimation : — 

"Now,  sir,  I'm  ready  f 'r  a  beginning,  and  you  can 
pleaae  ye'self  'bout  goin'  at  it."  So  he  cast  his  eyes  to 
the  grbund,  and  sat  as  demure  as  possible,  though  not 
without  a  restlessness  of  the  body,  which  was  the  normal 
state  of  ihat  machine. 

^g  ecclesiastic  fidgeted  in  hjs  dignitj^  and  frnm  hig^ 


•ii 


XT"^" 


'      MB.  BANGS  A  NEOPHYTE. 


not  beginning  at  once  with  the  « lesson  «  aim..^  «        } 
might  be  thought  that  hi«  r.i  ^^^  "P**^  ^* 

certed.         '  ^  ^  ^^  ""^  «>«^«what  discon. 

"It's  a  solemn  and  difficult  work  entirAl^"  k  '*" 

priest,  when  he  did  begin  •  « JZ  ?  ^'  ^^^  *^"'' 
cult  work,  that  we're  ^^  •  ^  '""^^  '^^  ^  ^^ 
the  horde  soelT  t^t^.T"  *''  ^^"^^  «^>  - 
himself  ha^tii;  with  t^l^^^^,  ^'  —^ ^ 
with  a  book  caUed  '  ThPwT  f  T  *  ^^^''  ^^  "^^^ 

"  'Tain't  ;r^  ^  *^  ^^^°»^  a  Catholic  ? ' «  \ 

ThreXv  1  gTsi  r  iir?^^  ^^  ^^^^^'  ^^  -  o' 

to  Wa  pictur'^t^'Lunt^^^^ 

—  -  .  too  long  for  her  .gger.  'I^SCT^ 

leaves  of  the  boot  n^U^  oZ^^'  ^  *""   *« 
a  new  assault     ThL  i.    j    '^^  """'^  ''*  '^  ""^e 

method,  ashe  th^ht,  it!  t  ^°"— ■*?«»«  hi, 
imndJ<  r  a„.  .  .  character  of  the  other's 

knows  thl."^  """"  "^  "■-  "^  "'««»''  -ery  „„, 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  American,  heartily  •  «'  ^fl  »« 
mortal.    Enumeration     Jnd-  '.   2^^        ■dammar, 
«a7  'n  I's  a  shaver.'         ^    '  *'  "P^-'"'*  '^  »' 

toJ!  't";*;:;!.-""^  "^^  that  some  si..,  are  mortal, 
"  Adam  fell  in—  # 

To  mortal  sin,"  said  Mr.  Bangs,  b/w^  of  must^ 

pZed  it^>  ^""""^  *"  «~°*  ""'  P™P°»i'i<'°  h'forel!^ 

"  y^ry  good,"  answcmJ  the  .^.vewttd  reawner,  wami- 


ff  -     t    1 


t  •'!Rs^t".1 


250 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


with  success,  "since  y*are  prepared  to  grant  what 
cannot  be  denied,  ye'll  be  prepared,  doubtless,  by  the 
same  rule,  to  deny  what  cannot  be  granted  ?  " 

If  the  triumphant  progress  of  his  argument,  in  its  for- 
mer steps,  was  due,  as  it  probably  was,  to  a  happy  acci- 
*    dent,  this  last  must  have  been  one  of  the  deliberate  pieces 
of  his  plot,  as  he  had  thought  out  the  plan  of  it  before- 
hand. 

"  Wall,  dono  's  *ave  any  constitootional  objection  ! 
"  Grant 't  all  men  are  mortal,  'course  I  deny  't  the  greatest 
man  'n  the  world,  whether  't's  Tie-berius  Caesar  Thomp- 
son—that's the  Hbn'able  Tieberius,  member  o'  Congress 
'n  District  I  hail  from,  or  Zabd'el  B.  Williams,  Chair- 
man o'  S'lectmen  o'  Needham,  or  the  Pope,  or  what  not, 
a«n'<  mortal." 

The  sohd  floating  bulk  of  Father  O'Toole's  argument 
was  not  broken  up  by  this  little  obstructive  illustration; 
nor  was  it  turned  aside. 

**The  Church  being  wan,"  he  continued,  "  sure,  y'ave 
a  right  to  believe  that  it's  never  been  corrupted." 

"Wall,  Yankees  aise  noways  slow  't  assertin*  their 
rights,  ye  know.  Fact  is,  they're  ruther  in(p^d^Wall, 
they're  dreadful  t'nacious,  's  ye  may  say."      1-^^ 

"Well,  then,  don't  ye  see,  if  the  Church l^^^er 
been  corrupted,  then  the  Pope's  the  Vicar  of  Christ?m 
think  ye'll  easy  see  that,"  urged  the  Priest,  drawing  W' 
argument  close.     Not  being  familiar  with  the  tone  and 
dialect  of  Americans  of  Mr.  Bangs's  class,  he  very  likely 
did  not  readily  or  entirely  understand  him  ;  but  the  latter  ^ 
seemed  to  accept  the  arguments  iirged  upon  him  cordially. 
This  was  Mr.  Bangs's  answer  ::*4*^'" ' "^ ^^"-    ''"^'^■' :' ■'''^^^•^^■; ^'-"' 
''  WaU,  fact,  it  is  'bout 's  easy  i^asonin'  's  ever  I  heard. 
'E'member  a  fullah  named  Tim- 


r 


_'i!,«|kj-* 


rr 


MR.  BANGS  A  NEOPHYTE. 


jin 


r 


«  That's  a  very  good  Irish  n^me,  then,"  said  the  Pri«L 
who  was  m  excellent  spirits  saia  tne  Fnart^ 

"THnbuctoo  Meldrum,  's  name  was.    Wall   'a  i  l^ 
sajing,  we  used  to  arffue  't  a  a^^h.fi  >>  .      ^'   *  ^  '^^ 
't  Needham,  and  he  fl   ?  '^'^'^  ^^  ^»  «"* 

V  heads  VaUIcinr^hl^X^:^^ 
as  clear  's  the  sun  'u  thi^l^bv  'T^     ^"^n  1  saj  it^s 

nigger.'"  JT^^'^^^  ^  y^  ^^^^cate  a. 

"  Does  the  sun  be  iritftiyi^rS ,u       .     I 
inquired  the  Priest,  wi^^jE^      -'  "  ^"o^J"  ?" 

enlgr^^  wTrj^f ;«'-  P«>-«d  «-'  once,  weU 

Ject,L  MnVri.  """''^"'  *^^  '^  «  »«™"ge  -ub- 
"  WaU,  yeVe  proved  it  om  way,  fact    >SMI&  „  . 

subieof  'f  tL  j        *^*  acnptiir's  ruther  mum  on 

'7^«-'b-i-i.ipp"^;^^^^^^  •» 


'ill'' 


r// 


252 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


little,  as  if  he  had  mistaken  his  man ;  but  he  had  not 
time  fairly  to  get  rid  of  his  happy  state  of  satisfaction  in 
himself  and  his  convert,  before  he  was  reassured  by  the 
latter  going  on,  in  his  own  way,  to  a  more  satisfactory 
endllg  than  his  sentence  had  promised.  The  ending  wife 
thus  : — 

"  'S  you  say,  these  things  are  all  real  patterns  o'  truth ; 
all  is^  I  leave  't  to  any  body  to  say  whether  't  don't  seem 
's  if  t]}ey  didn't  kuoiSvr  's  much,  when  Scriptur  's  written, 
*8  they  do  now."         - 

"  Ye'll  allow,"  said  the  Priest,  trying  a  little  more  ar- 
gument, just  to  finish  the  thing  up,  '-  God  has  more  ways 
than  wan,  mostly  ?' Well,  then,  in  this  present  case,  th' 
other's  traddition,  and  it's  as  good  as  Scripture  itself;  do 
ye  see  that  ?  "  ' " 

"  'N'  then,  's  that  great  text,  here,  f '  Purgytory,  'n  the 
Ref^grences,— Matthoo  Fifth,  Twenty-sixth,— why,  't's  as 
Pftt 'shutter.  I  guess,  tothfs  day,  ye  rfon'^  take 'em  out, 
t'll  somVdy'sphid  the  utmost  farthin\  Come  t'  hitch  tra- 
dition on,  too,  'n'  ye  can  prove  'most  any  thing,  's  clear  's 
starch,  's  the  woman  said." 

"  Ah !  then,  I  was  fearful  of  ye,  a  while  ago,  that  ye 
might  Tiave  got  some  o'  the  Protestant  notions  into  ye, 
that  they  talk  about  corruptions ;  but  here's  something, 
then,  I'd  like  ye  to  consider,  just  by  way  of  exam- 
ple :  Supposing  ye  were  dispose^  to  hold  an  ar^ment, 
which  /are  not,  ye'd  gayfhe  Church  was  pure  at  the 
beginning,  and  corrupt^fter ;  now  if  it  was  pure  at  the 
first,  and  corrupt  after,  what  way  was  It  those  corniptions 
*^"f^'  J"»<^  ?    Can  anny  Protestant  answer  that  question 

TRe  position  in  which  the  reverend  arguer  seemed  to 
feel  himsel^was  that  of  having  his  hold  fast  upon  his 


«9» 


4 


h 


^ 


i' 


MR.  BANGS  A  NEOPHYTE. 


convert,  and  beinff  ahlp  tr.  a    i    . 

.  ii'tle  mite  WerZll)^/,  'T  '"""^  =  "(''  ""^^  »  «  « 
iV<,^  eorrup>eJ,  'mult  hav,  TT^l  """{"^  *>"■  '»' 

;%  -«.  f '  'strufk  jrbet-^r  ?  "-r" """" 

J  heard  it."  "*'"  «  P  «7  'cate  ^lestion  'n 

"  Ay,  that's  tlie  verv  tl,;„»  •       . 
""■er  way,  then,  mS  ™,"^^;V'''•^  """'^  '  "  "^  *^' 
bi.  more  foree  i„  i,-  answere!  Sett''' ^''''  "^  P"'  " 

f  may  be  'nother  view  o>  ,h.  . 

P"Pil-     "  'Bout  'a  „ueh  ZeX  f    ^'  """«'"  ^'"^  ^is 

-r:.f-:rr£r  "-:--.• -- 

one  having  two  eCZtZ^  1      "'"'  *«  "*«■•  W""*. 

Wind  0' one  eye  fall  n      ^      '"'"•  ^•'k.*''  OToole,  •» 
"any  .paA,  f/:^  ^^'^^^  -"off,  though,  .„d  ha^  • 

-0  'bout  her  „„ee.r  Wa",  "f"    "^T"'"*';  '""^  Med 
'»  »  beetle,  'twa'n',  al'a"  J  y!  '"^'"' '"«'  "^^  '«  W-nd     ' 
0"e  «•  these  beetles  th'havt'fw^r."^^'' '""'"« 
""eets  ain't  bUnd,-naL^,.^.     "T'"   '"  ""^1^  f' 

^        ^   ■'  ""^  "  P'^m  hard  to  tell  „C       ' 


-!.'         ■  <* 


X  'I'-kW.-W 


254 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


ii,. 


that  blindness  come  ;  that  k,  time  o'  day,  day  o'  th'  week, 
day  o'  th'  month,  'n*  so  on." 

"  There  it  is,  now,"  said  the  Priest ;  "  she  can't  tell 
what  time  it  came ;  and  can  anny  wan  o'  them  tell  yrhai 
time  these  corruptions  came,  I'd  like  to  know." 

"  'F  I's  goin'  to  answer  that  'n  the  affirmative,  I  sh'd 
say  the's.few  men  c'd  keep  up  'th  ye  'n  an  argument.  I 
B'pose  the  way  changes  come  'bout,  's  p'ty  much  I'k'  this  : 
say  ye've  got  a  junk  o'  pure  ice,  in  water  'taint  altogether 
clefm ;  wall,  bymby  ye  come  to  ^ive  a  look  "at  it,  and 
half  'f  it,  or  two  thirds  'f  it  say,  's  gone  into  water;  't's 
made  cleaner  water,  but  'taint  ice  any  more.'  'T'd  puzzle 
the  old  fox  himself,  I  guess,  to  tell  when  that  b'gan  to 
come  'bout.  Or,  lake  'n'  slew  thefefigger  right  round — 
herels  yater,  say,  and  ye  'xp'ose  it  to  temperature  o' 
frezin', — that's  32  ^Fahrenheit, — 'f  it's  a  httle  mite  warm, 
*t'll  be  all  the  better  f '  the  'xperiment, — shavin'- water  '11 
do;-^wall,  go  'n'  take  a  look  't  that,  after  a  spell,  'n'  ye'll 
find  'twunt  look  's  if  the  cold  'd  done  any  thin'  to  it ; .  but 
jest  stick  yer  finger,  or,  'f  ye  don't  want  to  put  your  fin- 
ger, put  a  stick  in,  and  I  guess  ye'll  find  it  alPcuslush ; 
'f  'taint,  I've  misst  a  figger,  that's  all." 

How  this  illustration  supported  the  "  argument "  of  the 
worthy  converter,  it  was  not  easy  for  Father  O'Toole  to 
see,  and  he  answered  as  follows — rather  kindly  passing 
by  it,  as  the  work  of  an  obtuse  but  well-int6ntioned  mind, 
than  rebuking  it  as  the  suggestion  of  a  hostile  one : — 

"  It's  a  vef^  disagree'ble  and  tadious  procels,  then,  that 
ibelting  and  freezing ;  and  it's  not  often  I  tried  it.  I  pre- 
fer having  my  shaving-watter  warm,  towards  having  it 
cold,  the  way  y?  speak  of  ,  I'll  l>e  going  on,  now,  to  give 
ye  instruction  in  a  few  points  o'  the  Catholic  Faith.  The 
Pope's  dk'  entire  hea4  o'  Christendom — ^that's  taketi  for 


4f 


^^l  71^" 


MR.  BANGS  A.  NEOPHYTE.  265 

granted  ;  I  think  ye  were  satisfied  widi  the  pnx,f  I  «tv«^ 
ye  on  that  point."  -   .      *^  8«TO 

"  Oh,  ye8,  Father  O'Toole,  'don't  need  'ny  moreV»./- 
X,  only  'stonUhin'  t'  n.y  Mni,  f  find  a  ZTf^^ 
M^,  there,  akickin'  over  th'  truces,  'th  all  tZ  p^f" 
"An  what  traces  is  he  kicking  over,  thenP-Z^red 
Ihe  Priest.     "  I  didn't  hear  of  his  kiUin„    jf  *'"'"'' 
■      lliin»"    Ti.„  i»  Kickuig  ovBr  anny 

"mgi     The  lesson  was  suspended)  an«  the  book  wi 
(inadvertently)  shut  >^      «,  me  oook  was 

"Wall,  he's  a  pleggj^  smart  fullah,  b'  all  accounts. 
Didn't  know  b^t  what  he'd  got  ^.little  mite  a^^Tw 
«<-«  points.  -Glad  to  hear  he's  all  rigKt  'S'Z  w 
only  't  he  got  ruthcr  put  out  'th  the  P™f stant  r  111" 
sue  a  fuss  '„"c„si„«  «,e  Cath'lios  o'  ^artyin' 07^", 
Baibcrry,  there.     1^'s^y  Vs  t'other  way." 

O'Tnl"     "I"/'   '^^^0''  off.  then?"  asked   Father 
0  Toole,  with  some  warmth.  '^ner 

"/sh'd  like  to  see  'em  g^ve  't  she  .«  carried  off"    " 

»«od  It,  til  take  more  gumpshion  'n  t/,ey-„.  g„t,  to  find  't 

"And   what's  about  Father  Nicholas?"    asked   iK. 
woriliy  old  Priest.  -  "  '™ 

»y  ■!'d"'had'T"V'' "• '""'  ""^^' y™'  >-  «"k«  -d 

soy  led  had  his  finger  injt;  but  ho^'d  he  eo  'n'  do 
>ny  Ihiiig  'thout  your  teUin'  him  ?  'n'  nobody  'd^k  t' 
.u,pectm',„^  Father  O'Toole.'  B't  's  j^  ITt. 
llioae  sacrymunts ."  ^  ^     ^'"'  *""' 

Pla^'l^;;'*  ^"T  T  <"»«'"'P»'«-J.  and^had  lost  his 

^f  have  helped  to  restore  his  equanimity.     P««,X 
"1^  good-natured  way.  h.h,r.n.,r.i,.  '^"*""''' 


*^iSniHiijiiiiqif|ii 


^ 


■■i 


'   1.' 


256 


THK  NEW  PRIEST. 


**  Well,  then,  there  are  seven  SaCTaments.  YeVe-been 
taught  two,  I  suppose." 

"'Don't  undertake  to,  determine  that  point,  how  many 
we  had.  Seven  's  a  good  number  for  you  to  have,, and  1 
^^  ye  can  prove  it 's  well  'a  any  thing  else.  Sh'd  like 
to  have  fhe  proof." 

"  Those  Protestants  want  the  proof  from  Holy  Scrip- 
ture, mostly.  We'll  go  to  the  Holy  Scripture,  now.  First, 
How  njany  days  was  it  the  Almighty  'God  created  ttie 
heavens  and  the  earth  ?  *.' .  ^  * ' .      - 

♦*  Seven.  That  does  ^me  pleggy  near,  fact,"  said  Mr. 
Bangs. 

"  Ah !  and  isn't  it  exactly,  then,  it  is  ?  What's  the  dif- 
ference betwixt  sev^n  and  ^^even  ?  Well,  then,  you  see 
it  in  the  jiays  o'  the  week  itself.  Seven  's  a  sacred  num- 
ber. f^Seven  Orders  there  are,  and  seven  Sacraments,  the 
same  way ;  is  that  clear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  that's  's  clear  's  glats  in  *n  'clifcse  o'  the  sun,  . 
*B  the  man  said." 

"  Then,  Order,  Baptism,  Confirmation,  Eucharist,  Pen- 
ce, Extreme  Unction,  Matrimony  's  seven.  "  Baptism 
gives  righteousness,  and  faith  and  the  lik^s— and  Con- 
firmation strengthens  all,  again  ;  and  then  the  Holy  Eu- 
charist"   "k     „     ' 

"  That's  what  ye  have  for  the  Lord's  Supper,  I  8*j)ose. 
Mass,  I  guess  je  call  it,"  said  Mr.  Bangs. 

"  Indeed,  y'are  very  right.  It's  the  Unbloody  Sacrifice, 
also.  Ye've  heard  some  o'  those  things  the  Protestants 
speak  against  the  truth,  about  transubstantiation ;  but 
when  ye  think,  once,  isn't  God  almighty  ?  I  think  the 
like  of  you, — a  man  that's  in  the  right  way, — wouldn't 
find  any  difficulty  at  all,  in  that.  He  says,  '  Thit  it  mj/ 
Bodjfy — hoc  ett  corpus  meumt  literally ;  and  it  must  be,  . 
littirally,  hiy  faody.^* ^^^^ — —— — 


i         * 


x^^ 


tr&f^ 


^h'r-7 


-■ f-^-i^  ■*3thU.       -^, 


1^  BAK6S  A  NEOPHtTE. 


«t  -  267 

"ow,  Latin  (.^.13  iati^'r^.^  '  ^o"'-  -«>  Ju.. 
said,  'Look  ahere ;  when  L  T  '-T/  .*"  **  °"'«"'  "■»" 
.     ^'^.  bod,-o„  Hi™;  ittS:^  ^!^''*^^' 
-      a  iSiSce  0'  that  body  •  V  if  T    !  >         '*"*  '»''  *«'°'« 

the  man  Ji"  "''  "■""  ^^  <»"  i^-That's  what 

'      '^-^l,lr:o:^^^^^^  «-  -^  eve,  ^aid 

•       Bevil  's  in  .he  w»  d      ThL ,     T^T'  ^  '°"g  ««  tft 

answer  ,h.t  .hj,  „,;f •.  gI^ w.:,'"    "  "^■"« '  ^«  -» 

almighty,  and    0,  where^ llT    ^?  '""■""'^  ^'^'^^'^ 

and  spirit.  "^''  '"»''  great  animation 

"  ^l"'  ■''  take  it,  the  senia..  V  .1.        ■ 

at  the  marri>^X^.r^*'  ""  «^'«<».  ft'  the  wine  . 


an»>K.  that,  the  .h-d  try  HI '.head 


come  off." 

'    VOL.  I. 


17 


r4 


\ 


NEW  PRIEST. 


iseV 


^'^IGS 


rv.         .  ^^d  'twas  with,  the ^Sci^pture,  I  did  it,  t(».  t|a|., 

[I  flJcyre  aJa^ays  crying;  out  fof,"  said  the  prfej^^^^^'^^'^'^ 

cently.  m^^ 

"Wall,  the'i^  godi  many  fellahs  take  'n'  g^ 
tare,  one  way  ¥  'noth^,     ThY  aii't  o  A  'of 
ttf.jBn»fit  o%h'  'nsolvfit  Act,  ^^t  gi^goodj 
lr\   prpllrty  ^  life  ;— 'corl^^to  i^^^Jer  'fid^'fiili'te  Vv' : 
^1^  giiiin'  int   everlasiin^^i^^tat'id^^8']j^8e    the^<dl^  say^  ,  g,, 
V Tile's  a  naan  wantecf  t'ilrit  ?i  loro*ii|n<Ay^4'fc ups'f  " 

ir'ft(8sor,*too,— took   W  !liNrc«'«M) 


failedi.f'r  evei*-8o-in^fty  PoB|sfe|||^4<^l 
o  ijHinderd  thousand.)  n',  c(wne  Vjiook  ' 
v^  money  to  pay,  'n'  one  mortgage 
'^^>'  '^iiilliil^ldlPil^liM;'^^  'n'  no  doin'  any  thit|^,-^6aid  the 

,^    .     , V*  Waament  t' th' town ;  andv|«'d  gone  on 

ii  )|iMiM,*n'  i^e  didn't  know  'ny  better,  'n'  whii»ihot, — knoo 

^Inplgh  nol' to  lose  any  thing  hitaself,  thoug»^— wall,  a 

,d  'f  his,  when  the*  come  ^  see  nobody^'d,  git  any 

thiiq|  says   to  him,  *  Look-a-here !      'Thougliii  you's  a 

-^  pr*feisor  ;  don't  the!  Bible  say,  Owe  no,  man  atw  thing  1 ' 

uSo  says  he, '  I  don*t  owe  any  man ;  'took  'n'  borrowed  't 

fill  0-' widows  |n*  oi^hana.*— -He  wanted  it  set  down  on 

his  head-stone,  't  he"  w'^  'providential  instr'ment  f '  puttin' 

up  thpsp  buildms."  . 

"  See  the  badneas  o';  private  judgment,  now,  tow'rda 
haviiig  the  judgment  o'  the  Churfch  !  "  said  Father 
O'Toole. 

"  Wall,  that  kind  o'  private  judgment  ain't  wuth  much, 
,  I  guess.  Ogmmon  sense  ain't  private  Judgment ;  'fact,  't's 
the  common  "judgment  o*  the  Whole.  'Gueas  private 
judgment  's  'bout  's  good  's  any,  'f  't  stickajy^j^mrnQn 
sense.  Church  wouldn't  be  mucb,,'thout  thnHvuess. — 
*a  I  was  sayin|8|jg)0ut  that  text^here,i!§|jj|jpy^;'  'taint  , 


':.3:-:..'w.-. 


\       '  tWDj^,  ,-i„j 


lise'n' 

■  '^^.^1 

nook 

1 

irtgage  • 
id  the 

1 

one  on 

'■ 

* 

— knoo 

I 

/rail,  a 

1 

^t  any 

1 

ou's  a 

1 

htngf^ 
)wed  't 

1 

wn  on 

1 

puttin' 

1 

»w'rd3 

I 

Father 

-1 

much,    . 

1 

act,'t'8 

m 

private 

m 

}mmpn 

M 

iess. — 

1 

■\  'taint  . 

■ 

MB.  BANOa  A  NEOPHYTE.  )^q 

the  look,  no'  the  siuell,  no'  the  taste  nn'  *i.    <•   ,     /    ' 
heft ;  but  't's  it.  '  "'^  _^  ^*^«^'  o®'  tKe 

"'S  a  woman  'n  our  town /'♦«;«*  *i.  ^       ' 

-name  's  PeggT  mLT   7^^      '  "^'  *''  «»«') 

:  «^-"r  r*-.:?^' ri.-^^ 

8he  b'liered  p'ty  much  's  thi«  RKr  ^^^^J-waU,  ; 

^    ^i^^ouarouro^hirtt)"'^^^^^^^^^ 

i^Heii^id,  'n  English,  ^  rll  ^^  aZ^'X:^  ' 

::vS'^^  ^"^  ^  -k,ea:';th:i.^r 

so,  n  He  s  almighty.   A  fullah  said  to  her,  'LookThpT    ' 
do  you  mean  to  say  that  thev  coulfl  V  .!;  .         7       ^* 

'n'  hammered  'n'  hacked  V  wW      .       .      '^'''^  ^'^^^ 

uacKea  n  what  not,  and  madp  r^o.^^  >f 
meetm'-house  out  of  him  ? '     <  wk         "^  ™***®  P^^  f  a 
8'8  she      *  T  H.  "*  ""'  ^'^''         Why,  no,  I  guess.  I  don'L' 

oceui^ed  in  Mr.  Bangs's  s^  """"' 

who.  he  addreased  himself,  e^ptin^'!!"'  ""^  «''^^'  ^ 
this  was     will  r7  "V  *^''""'™"».  •"  the  Sta.es,      ' 

:<vr;;zrr;.u:'dr.^^^^^^^^^ 

••»  «he.    .  Wus-t  his  «.«!,? .  "Glass  n!"  •    <  1^?  "°^'    '  ' 
his  stomuch  ?>•  Guess  rio(  •  '  w    -T-  f '  '"'  """ 

not'    Pi„.i]      ^^'"^*'>°'-    'Wus'th^  brains?'  'Gues. 
not.    Finally,  she  guessed  't  wa'n't '«  eve.  n„, '.  . 


^  -  *"*»  *°«  nnally  they  qome  to,aa|i 


"{  . 


'1' 


860 


THE  NEW  PMEST. 


■ 


•f 'twas  his  bones,  V  she  didn't  know  but^  Height  be's 
bones.  But  s's  they,  *  Aunty,  bones  ain't  a  man,  and 't 
looks  I'k'  pleggy  small  p'taters,  to  come  down  t'  that.  •  You 
aaid  the  hull  man's  rock,  when  ye  b'gan  'th  him.  *  Wall,'  s's 
she,  \1  say  so,  now.'  •  Then  you  don't  say 't  's  his  bones 
more  'n  the  rest-part  'f  him  ? '  *  No,  I  don't,'  s's  she. 
\  Wall,'  $'8  they,  ♦  Look  a-here,  if  twa'n't  'ny  part  'f  him, 
•t  wus  rock,  'n'  you  say  th'  man  's  rock,  what  wtts  the'  o' 
rock  'bout  th'  man?'  *  Why, 't'.sLTHE  man  HiMSEtp,' 
8*8  she." 
.  «  Wall,  I  tell  ye.  Father  OToole,  tlie'  wa'n't  one.o'  the 
whole  boodle  'f  *em  c'd  answer  that ;  'n  she  shovelled  th' 
^  snuff  'nto  her  nose,  I'k*  a  dam  breakin'  away,  'n  kep'  a 
lau^hin',  fU  she  go^  tired.' 

Mr.  Bangs's  illustrations  were  all  of  the  most  left- 
handed  sort,  that  did  n6t  at  all  explain  or  enforce  the 
things  they  were  brought  to  illustrate  ;  but  rather  the 
contrary.      The  Priesf  saw  this,  and  answered,  with  a 
>^  'dew  to  it 

"  Y'are  not  accustomed,  it's  likely,  to  discussions  of  the 
sort, — I  mane  if  your  mind  .is  just  drawing  the  way  ye 
•  said  it  was.  Tm  thinking  it  wanders,  a  little,  ju^now ; 
.maybe  it's  better  we  leave  off  how,  for  it's  my  Opinion 
ye've  got  just  about  as  much  Aa  ye  can  cleverly  bear. 
One  thing  I'd  like  to  know :  J^  ye  desiring  to  be  con- 
verted, as  I' understood  ye  were?  " 

*  My  wishes  haven't  changed  one  mite,  sir,"  said  the 
American.  \ 

"I  think  ye'll  do,  for  a  bit,  with  the  teaching  ye'^e  had. 
It's  important  to  make  an  impression  upon  ye  wi^  the 
solemnities  of  religion,  for  it's  a  great  hold  tliey  tal^e  upon 
a  man,  and,  though  I  speak  it  with  reverence,  it's  my  sol- 
amn  qginicp  there's  few  pjacffwh^ 


.   v 


•-'^'i-'  y  4- 


^,^-  >v  '^v^  's  ^^u^^i^'^Y,^^ 


MB.  BAKOS  A  NEOPHTTIL 

.stronger  impression  npon  ye  than  just  in  my  oto 
ehurcl,,  though  there's  I.^r  in  the  country,  doubU^ 
and  finer  ,„  «.„«  „^i^^^,  particular  Jit  I>U  uS 

day,)-and  I  thmk  ye'U  be  struck  with  surprise  and  dt 
vot-on,  all  at  wante,  if  y»give  yer  mind  to  Z" 

me.  Want  to  see  the  real  thi4g.  O^  b^rd 't  ai^ 
alw  s  what  'tihould  be  ,-th.t  n,  >n  the  fixins,  I  melT-^ 
holy  candles  a,d  what  not.  'Tell  me  the'  don't  har,;«l 
candles,  but^  things  f  look  like  'em.  'Taint  so  'tly^ 
course.  Wh'  I  know  a  lot  'f  's  good  candles  's  any  'n  2 
«o.verse,  f '  next  ,o  nothing."    So  Mr.  Bangs  dei^ 


■I  J 


',S?" 


% 


% 


* 


\  ■   ■■■    ■  — -.„„..-^ — 


imi-  "p^f 


262 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


CHAP 


^*iS(. 


P 


r 


% 


MISS  dare's  expedition  with  an  escort. 


a» 


ISS  Dare  had  made  an  appointment  with  Mr. 
Naughlon,  for  a  ride  to  Bay-Harbor,  and  he  set 
himself  immediately  about  securiiig  a  steed  for 
his  own;]|j^eon  the  occasion,  Agamemnon,  (Dunk,)  his  own 
horse  being  lame.  The  Miniver's  he  did  not  quite  like  to 
borrow.  Mr.  O'Rourke.  sent  word,  inan^wer  to  aj^||ibal 
request,  that  «  he  would  as  soon  t^  Mr.  Naughton  on 
'fe^his  own  t%ck,  as  lend  his  horse ;"  and  the  exigency  was 
t  met,  at  lengilf,  by  the  engagement  of  Jemmy  Fitz-Sim- 
mons's  white  pony^  whose  regular  rate  of  rentage  w^ 
one  dollar  (five  8hillinp,'1|rrency,)  a  day,  and  who  cct- 
tainly  made  an  hon^l^  day'ff  work  of  %  (that  is,  spent  a 
faJ"  working-H^  orSfcther^  »ore  abotit  it,)  when  em- 
ployed to  go  eight  tniles  in  one  du^ction,  or  ten  in  the 
other,  ^(^starti  <^ 

F  Mr.  Naufhtoft^piounted,»W«creat«re%ringgg  rognd 
his  great  white  l\ead  and  rubMnj^f*  with  a  I!roiuj4ip- 

,  ward  jerk,  against,  tjie  wjJDleme  oif  the  fiiture  eijues- 

*-  trian's  clothes,  on  which  fflfc^tatioh  left  a  greasy  soil. 

t^^hatthe  animal'3«loilett|Mifeot  been  neglected,  was 
cedent,  from  the  marks^'^of  the  curry-comb  imprinted 
jgrably  JQ^e  jisoolored  and_highly-scented  fur  6f  one 


WSS  DABE.S  EXPrnmON  WITH  AN  ESOOBT.    288 


ride  of  him,  which  tar  answered  tn  A.  .  ji,    • 

in  which  it  was  mixed  nZhT.  ^"'  ™'«»^«' 

hair  i,  empk„ed  fort  ^^^^  """  ""-^  '^  "O"'. 

asZL^^o  r  J-hirhesT.  tn:  "'"  "■'  »"""'' 

"P  tat  i:tsi- j:-r  -^  »^  •'^-^ 

Wm  .0  poetise  that  m.n«„™  „""f' ""  "f"  *"""«''  '"' 
n.ade  to  .eep  him  i„  .ava::^  b^L  'r^Cr  re^" 
tual  an  obstructive  settintr^im^  *^  ®"®°" 

...empt  to  foiiow  liH^nTZ  T,  '"f  "''^' "»'  ""' 
V-t-'H-  with  which  me^'tie  11  ,™TtoTheT^; 
conservative  (whig)  statesmen,  or  sTbmrto  tLe  K^v 

>.ade.teS\:t^fr:L:vir4^^^^^^^^ 

%^'r  which^belongs  of  proptt,  ,1 L  tl^^nt'"' 
fe-,  with  a  horse  l^lte  Miss  Dare's  (which  w«  a  L, 
Jn^vance.  it  i„st  be  a  matter  of  Zp^S^ 

o-<^  f^r/atra^inrcir  "ciT 

procured  a  serviceable  stick,  to  co3pe«te  I'*  I^  %' 

«l.ort.Iive?mitt„Tf  t"""^  *"  •'"'°"  *"  '"^"-  « 
ereatu™  mota^rmed  1  ""^T"  '"  """"'  *« 
justice  h.  .w         u  !      °  ""*''  """  •>«  «>"W  not  do 

"*  "^y  <*"'«*^  <•«  Ave  successive  p«M,,  brt 


i_  "t.,:^;    ,  ^„  ^'         ,   ,:     r:  dv{^\4W,^.^.'   j^    < 


264 


THE  NEW  PBIEST. 


the  amount  of  progression  secured  in  this  way,  was  much 
what  a  table  (before  these  days  of  table-tipping,  of 
course,)  could  be  made  to  accomplish  by  having  its  two 
legs  at  each  end,  alternately  lifted  and  put  down  upon 
the  ground.       #  • 

Our  horsewoman,  accordingly,  could  hardly  help  get- 
ting nearly  out  of  sight,  now  and  then,  though  she  waited 
duly  for  her  escort,  at  convenient  distances ;  occupying 
the  interval  for  the  first  part  of  the  way  between  Peter- 
port  Riverhead  and  Castle-Bay,  with  short  visits  at  the 
doors  of  two  or  three  houses,  whose  inmates  she  knew  as 
being  in  the  habit  of  bringing  eggs  or  poultry,  or  some 
such  little  wares,  to  her  uncle's,  for  sale. 

Mr.  Naughton  had  attempted  conversation,  most  zeal- 
ously, according  to  his  slender  opportunities ;  he  had 
remarked  upon  the  pleasant  woodland  smell,  as  they  went 
along  the  way  skirted  with  trees,  where  the  young  birches 
had  come  out  beyond  the  limits  of  the  little  forest,  like 
children  playing  at  a  short  safe  distance  in  front  of  their 
homes.  Again, — after  an  interval, — on  the  summit  of  the 
hill,  in  Castle-Bay,  whose  side  ist  precipitous  to  the  water, 
and  down  the  face  of  which  the  road  goes  as  steeply, 
almost,  as  a  waterfall,  (or  as  Whitmonday  Hill,  in  Peter- 
port,)  he  had  spoken  of  the  lovely  landscape,  in  which  the 
breadth  of  Conception-Bay  makes  so  great  a  part.  Miss 
Dare's  bright  eye  was  not  only  open  to  all  beauties  of 
nature,  but  had  found  them  out  long  ago,  and  grown 
familiar  with  them,  and  saw  in  them  what  nothing  but  a 
quick  eye,  practised,  could  have  seen  ;  and  Mr.  Naugh- 
ton, as  they  paused,  for  a  breathing-space,  at  this  look-out, 
forgot  his  steed,  and  the  difficulties  of  horsemanship ; 
for  with  all  his  ecclesiology  and  fuss  about  tapers  and 

i  heart  hashed  into  before  aoa^ 


m 


•m 


hyhiittmg  eyes,  and  M  nofc  be«i  mrardlesaof  h«^  ^  "^ 

lookmg  as  unapproachable  as  one  of  the  cimZ^ 
over  t  e  sea  in  the  British  Channel,  and  her  eyrw^hT 

liquid  lustre  floatino-  throiiah  tho«,   ri       l         "^    '  * 

™"  i.  .d„  of  ,ight\horin  fh™; ; :  :r:ri:f' 

Jusl  no,v,  as  gating  &„  though.fullyXn  „s^ 

ChtTiVatet:  :rf  -"^^  ""^  ^"'-  «' 
come      Th.r.    I  *  ^'^  'P^"'"'  """nent  had    ' 

things,  silent.  "^nj  ""ty  and  pretty 

';Miss  Dar<  he  said,  seizing  the  oc'easion.  •       •     :. 

Beautiful !     said  she,  finishing  with  her  ?,„^. 
and  then,  as  she  turned  to  him  "  Whv  „h!,  '7*'«»P«" 
o^iu.  is  that,  Mr.  NaughtonT  A^^ '  tS    ' 

...e  >^:!d.  sh^;:  ?r  ^^^  ">^  *-  -^  *«  .„,„  of 

bvt;  r^tf  ""■'  "■'"''  ""^  '^"<«'-M  and  hindered 
by  the  butldmg-materials,  out  of  which  he  was  nS 

^ge-her  that  slowest  and  hat^eat  of  eons?r„cr„stS 
ready  to  ask  for  her  horseV^dJe-rein.     He  was  not 


•  ♦■  . 


■i.;! 


266 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


■I 


-^ 


"  Don't  you  recollect  the  dog  in  the  fable,"  she  asked) 
"that-fhad  a  piece  of  meat,  but  lost  it,  jumping  for 
another?" 

The  gentleman  had  in  his  mind  something  a  great  deal 
more  appropriate  to  the  present  occasion  thjm  that  fable, 
(of  which  he  did  not  see  the  exact  reference,  at  such  a 
moment ;)  he  had  what  must  be  said,  or  the  time  for  it 
woifld  hav^  gone  by.  It  was  a  quotation ;  d:nd  as  he 
went  down,  leading  her  horse,  he  got  it  forth.  ^ 

"  Ah !  Miss  Fanny,  do  you  remember  those  lines  of 
Burns:  '  We've  climbed  life's  hill  together ?' "  ! 

"Not  quite  that ^  but  a  good  deal  like  it;  'thegfthcr' 
is  the  real  ScoJ:tish  ; — but  do  please  attend  to  my  fable, 
Mr.  Magistrate,  if' you  Expect  us  to  go  down  this  hill, 
the^ither;  look  to  your  Arabian  courser,  or  j^ou'lllose 
him."  .      .  «  .      / 

Now,  though  it  will  never  do  to  let  one's  ^elf  get  into^ 
ludicrous  or  awkvf^ard  position  in  the  eye^  'or^  a  'lady 
whom  he  values,  yd  there  are  different  ways  of  escaping 
that  ill-luc]k;  sometimes  by  overbearing  and  putting  down 
circumstances  ;  sometimes  by  giviii^  way  to  ftnd -following 
them  i  sometimes  by  taking  dexterous  advantage  of  thorn 
andturning  them  to  account.  Mh  Naughton's'%vit  wa«  in 
a  sharpened  state;  he\saw*at  'once|,that  h<"  migfit  just  ais 
wellcast  off  his  quotation  and  jHpidon  it  to  the  waters 
or  oblivion  ;.  as  to  his  horse,  the  creature  vtouldn't  go,, 
with  all  the  appliances  that  he  could  i)ring  to  bear  upon 
him,  and  could  be  recovered  in  half  a  miitiite.    .    ■   ^'_ 

"You'd  better  leave  me  Brutus,"  said  Miss  Dare,  asr; 
the   gentleman  'turned   up   the  hill,  holding   her   horse's 
rein;  "  I'll  give  him  back  to  yot;,  when  you'fe  feot  Fitz- 
SjmmonH."     "  Very  good  ;"  answered  Mr.  Naiightou  with 
a  few  hasty  steps  getting  up  with  the  pony.     The  little 


^i 


t 


•'  •*) 


* 


'  ^^?*"2     "  "'^[^^' 


"5^-; 


MISS  BA«E.S  EXPEWTIOK  WITH  AN  ESCORT.  2„  ' 

beast  was  cropping  such  grass  as  the  .n„  %    .  ' 

luresquc  hill  sust^ned.     nTdia  L  I    l^^"^        """  P'"^- 
hi^  tech  off  his  food  but  ll       ■  ?    ""^  ™™'''  "■■  '^kS    ■ 
Wteridera  part  of  Ws  boi   T^ '""'*"<'»«  rds  his  ■ 
.  wa,  unoccupfed  i„  L!^:^'""'^  ""'^'"  ""«  »»  "rid'",  -d   ^ 

-^^:i::;  zi.^'^- !"^'^  ^-  .0..  „f ,. 

.-.eloved  nfaidet  £il'::'--,":7  »<< --he-,  -d  - 
.     "^  charged,  that   coula ',::„'    as l'    anl"!  ^''"'"'''  " 

,  .    "  He-JI  s,a„'3>,;his  dM,   "^  ^  ''"t  "*  "'^  *''™'=''-     ' 
-i.l  and  done  to  hi„,  ,  te  1    [  """'^^  ""  """'^  "»- 

Vat  stopped  the  m£  ^t^:!!"::' "'r''"^"'' 

'"?  i'l-V'-d."  .said  the  foaid.n.  spLIto"  of  th  ""'"' 

farili  continually  and  not  „„  ,,  "  ''"=''  '»  ">e 

".on?.  li«Ie  hoSe  seemed  ,>"  "'"""'^  ^"^  S™" 

,  ravi,a,iot  offer^g  a  ^1' ,  "the     ::;i'"'  ^'^''  '"^  "^  . 

Mme  part.  '  '  ^       ""'  "*'•''■  '("'""'I  'he  self-  ■     . 

Tt.H  manoeuvre,  like  a  ,rx!!/-?   "'"''^  »*"'"'»'««<)• 

"'«  I'orse,  .sn,UchmgVhi    hea^  !F,''i'"''°"'"  "^""^ 
l'""'/oct  and'b,.™^  ,„C        ,    '      '"''"'  ™""<'  o"  hi" 

rt'hA^h  the  rZ^!     V  ?  """    '""'   ""-1    I*™ 


P-'w.ioWi.xi^homte     in  „..   n   t     T    "^  "<•""  ">«' 
^^^"""^       "  ^^"'JKoDp^.tiefprng  the  side 


_- — ^^ 


■«»;:■ 


>■-  A 


i 


**; 


f.26« 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


near  the  garden-rod  fence.  Mr.  Naughton,  with  dignity, 
leept  the  road  a  little  behind. 

"When  the  beast  ^reached,  as  he  soon  did,  a  place  where 
the  road,  being  cut  down,  left  himsejf  on  fhe  top  of  a 
bank,  he  then  turned  round  abruptly,  and  got  himself 
beyond  his  pursuer  in  the  other  direction. 

Ahy  one  who  has  been  through  this  process  of  C£!,tching 
a  slow-footed  horse,  with  predilections  for  pasture,  can 
-fancy  the  further  progress  of  the  pursuer  and  pursued. 
The  pony  enacted  to  the  best  of  his  ability  the  part  of 
the  pretty  little  butterfly,  leading  on  and  eluding  the  boy ; 
but  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill  from  Miss  Dare,  several 
cipcnmstances  turned  to  the  help  of  Mr.  Naughton ;  he 
had  left  his  dignity  behind,  within  the  young  hidy's  sight, 
and,  moreover,  the  road  backward  lay  through  the  flakes, 
on  which  the  w^qmen  were  already  turning  and  spreading 
the  fl*h,  and  while  their  being  there  took  some  nimble- 
hess  from  his  limbs,  it  also  secured  as  many  feet  and 
hands  jeis  were  needed  for  his  purpose.  The  pony  was 
at  length  caught  on  the  beach,  under  a  flakiB,  witlv  his 
fa<MJ  magnanimously  towards  the  deep,  and  his  left  ankle 
hobbled  with  his  bridle-rein,  which  he  either  ?ould  not  6r 
^ would  not  break.  Jv)  he  was  recovered ;  but  what  time 
and  possibfe  opportunities  had  been  lost !  Mr.  -Naughton 
broke  his  substantial  stick,  not  as  ttti  official  breaks  his 
staff  of  office,  having  no  farther  use  for  it,  but  in  actual 
(discharge  of  authority  upon  the  offender. 

Miss  Dare  was  not  where  he  had  left  her:  having 
lau^h^  heartily  at  the  beginning  and  first  steps  of  the 
chase',  she  had  gently  descended  the  hill ;  had  leisurely 
mounted  at  a  rock  by  the  roadnide,  and  was  waiting  at 
tiie  Httle  bridge  (or  fterhnps  it  was  a  ford  then)  before 
you  g€iV  to  thtt  long  hill,  down  which  come^j»w  a  l^t^r 


^■"^  f"'  " ' 


.  -.-J 


-»      fV.'V,'-^  -V^JI^^WJIg^^^te^ 


MISS  DARE'S  EXPEDITION  WITH  AN  ESCORT.    2«9 

way,  anda  less  steep  one  than  ih«t  r^u\    , 

it  in  that  day  •  '  ^^'  ""^'^^^  ^^«"^  <^r«>^^«ed 

™pt  eo„,.as.s  of  he,v,.  S^:X^r""''  «"-    ' 
Jiioturesquc.  "O'low,— nJueh  are  Tery     . 

Mr.  Nau.|„o„-s  cour,,er  «..,  by.  thil  Le  call  J     T. 
p.nant  gemleman  who  be.„rode  this-  iali,,?  .'     ,  "' 

'«•-"  work.„ga  rud..H..„,rie„|  .uadn^.el  aV  ,'    '  f 

c'lHiaiou,  Winch   siicnf   ;fi--.u*  •      ..i   .-  ^^ 

^l-."«dic,  can  erin.    ,  '     of        "   "',""t  ""''  "  ''"l^ 

''»'.:     -  >'"';PP-->,ive  inh.„,iU„  of"c«r.«i„ 
"'■  >'"'  more     eo  ";  f  "h       "' ,'""'  "'"  "'""^  '"  P"*-''"™      -' ' 

;       "■•'.  promp„ng  h», -«>mp^nion  in  l,i»  „„«..;.,k.., 


.jv 


•I***!:" 


m 


THE  NEW  PEIEST. 


•>. 


"Ah  !  yes,  and  I  was  going — if  I  hadn't" 

— ^^*becn  interrupted,'"  sl«3  supplied,  " to  the  Roman 
CAtholic  Mission  at  Bay-Harbor." 

Even  in  the  midst  of  an  apparent  preoccupation  of 
mind,  Mr.  Nnughton  was  astonished. 

"  Yes,  and  oiryour  business  too.  You  remember  how 
Deborah  took  Baraiv,  son  of  Abinoam,  with  her,  and  how 
Sisera  was  delivered  *  into  the  hand  of  a  woman  ? '  " 

Whether  by  the  suggestion  of  the  last  five  words,  or, 
however  prompted,  Mr.  Naughton's  interest  even  in  the 
strange  object  of  Miss  Dare's  visit  to  Bay-Harbor,  was 
diverted  to  an  object  of  his  own. 

There  was  one  'occult  part  of  that  Bay-  Harbor  road, 
with  a  l^ank  to  the  left,  and  a  fence  and  some  firs  to  the 
right,  a  bend  in  front  and  a  descent  behind,  where  Mr. 
Naughtoh  began  to  check  his  steed  with  the  voice,  and 
the  steed  began  to  stop. 

"  Why,  what  has  happened  to  Fitz-Araby  now,  Mr. 
Magistrate?"  inquired  Miss  Dare,  reining  up  and  turn- 
ing her  horse  about;  " has  ho  dropped  one  of  his  legs,  at 
last,  in  practising  that  very  skilful  pace  ?  " 

Mr.  Naughton  answered  only  indirectly,  by  repeating 
his  request  to  his  pony,  soothingly,— 

"  Wo-o !  wo-o  !  wo — o ! "  and  stimulating  him  with  hi^ 
armed  heels,,  lookingf  moreover,  down  towaixls  the  pony's 
left  forefoot,  assiduously. 

In  addition  to  the  dilate  monosyllable  which  hud 
been  hitherto  applied  to  Fitz  and  coimteracted  by  th« 
spurs,  the  horseman  must  have  drawn  upon  t^  bridle, 
for  before  coming  up  with  the  lar|^r  beast,  tb-  ieswr 
stood  still.  The  spurs  were  still  actively  employe  d,  but 
with  the  rein  exerted  against   tliem  were  inefflci* m  to 

prodilPP  inntinn,  i^tt^    n^'^V  fftPt"n"d  til"  ff'ft  V^h  "Mftlff*? 


f^ 


^ 


"'^  "^T^T^^^t^^^^^ ' 


MtSS  DARE'S  EXPEDITION  WITH  AN  ESOOBt!    271 

^      J       ,  ,  ^^Hugntons  mind  was  not  nf  oil  V«» 

tered  and  kept  down  \c^  fi.«     •  X^  '  '®^" 

«poke  out  of  .Be  „.id3t  of  ^Z^^'J^^^Z^t 
Fitz,  or  rein,  or  spur.  ^  reierence  to^j 

"  Oh  I "  said  he    « if  T  ««  u   j 

.     .ons  so  far,  and  back,  if  you  please."  ""  """"'"■• 

He  loosed  his  tightened  rein,  applied  salt  hi,  .,•  1. 

adapted  to  his  case-  l>n,  i,  ..' '^™'»P'  J""  ""e  one  best 
immediately  ' ''"'  ""'  '"''«  "«  '^^^-  eS^ct 

vin!:::;  :  ■"  ''^  requested,-he  introduced  her 

« .out  menfontng  the  object  of  her  visit.    He  „„d„: 
toot  the  entertainment  of  Mr.  Naughton,  who  was  vT" 

W  hen  Miss  Dare  came  back  from  her  interview  wi.h 
th«  .".n,  she  found  Father  Terence  showing  tZn^l 
-heartily  and  hospitably  over  "the  gron  d!"  ^  "f 
'!««=  were  a  thousand  .ores  .f  them,  all  wnving^tl 
g™m  or  larger  growth,  „r  c„,«ted  w.-hVeen  iZ^  ^"^  ' 

•"■er.  „,,   i„J,,d.  ,  pula.o-g.rdenfi,  di:^|„„. 


■i''- 


.  « 


ft 

I 

"  *      k 

L',  ,1, 

:v* 

***  ^         "> v-j  r^*  7»"f'     ^ 


279 


THE  NEW  PRIEST. 


s 


r 


t.  y 


about  forty  feet  by  sixty,  and  as  stony  almost  as  a.  maca- 
damized road,  and  a  little  patch  of  potato-onions,  "of  which 
the  worthy  Priest  was  rather  proud ;  there  was  a  pigsty 
grunting,  and  squelching,  and  squeeling,  with  pigs  of 
every  size  ;  and  tbere  were  flocks  of  geese,  and.  turkey^l 
and  ducks,  and  hens,  and  chickens,  which  certainly  gave 
a  very  cheerful  and  comfortable  look  to  the  premises,  and  ' 
warranted  the  proprietor's  eloquence,  which  -the  young 
lady  overheard  as  she  drew  near. 

Father  Terence,  having  learned,  in  ansiwi^r  to  his  ques- 
tion, that  aae  had  not  found  the  missing  girl,  and  had 
been  informed  that  she  was  not  with  the  nuns^et  the 
information  with  a  very  Emphatic 

"How  would  they  have  her  then^^  or  would  any 
Christians  act  that  way  ?  "  * 

Miss  Dare  did  not  repeat  to  the  Priest  what  she  had 
said  to  the  nun,  and  the  kind-hearted  man  wont  on  to  say 
that  he  was  glad  she  had  come  straight  down  and  satis- 
fied  herself,  for  «  people  often  took  up  notions  that  were 
not  the  thing  at  all,  and  Catiiolics  were  not  all  that 
bad  that  some  Protestants  thouglit  tiiem ; "  an  assertion 
which,  nobody  who  knew  or  even  siaw  the  speaker,  would 
think  of  doubting.  Miss  Dare  assented  to  it,  cordially ; 
Mr.  Naughton,  (who  was  very  grave  and  silent,)  with 
less  animation  than  might  have  been  expected. 

The  young  lady  was  anxious  to  get  away,  and  the  old 
man,  with  a  courtesy  th^t  was  well-becoming  to  his  years 
and  character,  escorted  his*  guests  towards  the  gate. 

"  I  guess  'f  any  b'dy  was  goin'  t'  cut  'p  a  caper  o'  that 
sort,  he'd  leave  Father  O'Toole  out,"  said  a  voice  beliind 
them,  easily  i^ecognized  by  any  one  who  had  heard  it  be- 
fore. Mr.  Naughton  had  heard  it  betbre  ;  and  his  gravity 
became  rather  grim,  as  he  walked  on  regardless.     Miss 


(■:,: . 


-,-iL-. ..,  ** 


MISS  BABE'S  EXPEDITION  WTTtt   axt 

lUON  WITH  AN  ESCORT.    273 

'      planation,  ''^'  Terence,  bj  waj  of  ex- 

"  Wall,  'm  beginnin'  to  a#»A  t^^^      i.  . 
said  th.  mercantile  scholar  from  'T',,"'  ""'''  ^  ''''-™'" 
seemed  to  be  good.  '^  "'*'  ■*«»'  "hose  eare 

"  Ye'll  think  better  o"  the  r„ft  ?• 
this  mistake,"  the  Priest  saTd»1,  ""*""  ""'""«  »•"  • 

Fitz-Simmons-s  poly  S,"  '^  T  ""  ™'""^  «^- 
home  at  a  much  'betL  ^t       I!  T.  "r*^  '"  ^ 
maintained  during  the  ride  ^6^  nil      k"'  '"'""^ 
convmce  his  rider  that  it  was  1  m  '  ""  ""  "^ 

home  that  possessed  his  le  Jl  ^'"■'  a«aehment  to 
'own  much  as  he  had  plcefi; '„  T  ""^  ''^"'  »'■  "■« 
«e,  however,  was  ToThe  2 '  T '^"•.  ,  ^'"'  ""'«'- 
effective;  h.s  spura  struekL  u    '  '""''   ""^  ■»»« 

Ear.,  occupied  w,U  rerLTw  t*"^'^''  ""O  "^  ^'^ 
gait,  the  young  lady  and  hi!    ^' '"''"  "  '"^  '^""^'^ 
Sl.e  tried  fo  draw  It  .r'''  """  ""'  "^^  -""<ier. 
along,  but  he  was  mLv    and    '""''"'""'"'  "^  """^  ™de 
equally  carried  on      Sh  '  T    '-^'"'"^'''"'  was  very  „„.     ' 

ga.e;id,-l:"he  wLtrr  'r "'  "•'-  •■"*'^ 


*. 


VOL.  I. 


18 


'*  ^,«„.,  !*i.i 


\ 


274 


TH£  MEW  PRIEST. 


t 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


AOnOSa   THR   BARRKNS. 


\* 


^OR,  on  the  dny  before,  intelligonoe  had  come  to 
him,  Riul  this  day,  with  GHpin  nnd  Billy  Bow, 
and  ,Te8se  in  his  (H>nipiiny,  (the  latter  leaving  Isaac 
MufTen  in  ehni^  of  the  funeral  arrangements,)  the  Miii- 
i8ter*hnd  followed  its  leatling.  His  dog,  like  Tobit's,  fol- 
lowed him. 

It  was  an  mjsubstantial  and  bmken  story;  that  a  man, 
going  aenxVs  the  Ban-ens  to  Trinity  Bay  on  the\vening 
of  Luey's  disappearance,  had  seen  a  young  woman  in 
white  clothes  at  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile's  distance  be^ 
fore  hin\.  going  towards  New-Harbor ;  and,  on  jfiie  even- 
ing of  the  next  day,  she,  or  a  like  persoit,  had  been  seen 
at  the  Cove  near  "New-Ha?:lx>r. 

This  story  did  not  agree  with  received  theory;  nor. 
was  it  easily  reeoticHed  with  known  facts;  but  i)erhaps  it 
could  be  recomiled  with  both  theory  and  fa^tal  andlt^ 
was  worth  fblbwing.  * 

The  little  net^i  that  spidei*s  spread  M'cro  bright  with 
dtew,  and  so. were  the  ktaves  of  the  sheep's  laurel  afnd  other 
sIh^I»s,  and  all  tho  j^ir  wa*;  clear  as  air  could  l>e.  It  was 
»oi  yet  the  t4m*-  for  sunrt^e,  and  our  party  left  the  sun  to 
riee  behind  thorn,  as  thcv  set  forlh  cagtrrly  from  the  pliu;e 
of  meeting,  which  was  at  Dick  MeFinu's,  where  the  road 


'■-'TSAt^C 


ACROSS  fH^BABRENS.         .  . 

oiy  if 

through  tho  woods  , mil  „„W  ',       „  • 


liny  for  Nuw-IIiir  _ 
MoFinn  " |,„d  hoa^l  „o,hi„,,,'.  ,,„  ^.  ,, ,    . 

.«k*>..  m, „.„. „«,  p^,,  «t«  fir^';.'"' » ^-^i 

-'H-v«..  idle,  o^Tw"^  1"'^,:  :;;^«  7  ver,  ,„.-ek, 

:;-:f -0  „.,o ,  .„^,^,  j^;  j;-^^^^^^^^ 

^  ""'l  Ihis  priVsi.     Kmhc-  ^'  "*'T^'«'''«  (">ey  calls  u„) 

l'7  --.,•,  ,00  g,HKi  friend!  bl^  J^*"","^  ^'7' 

lifrliicned  (or  Vm  or  !,„  .,„.  1 1  """'■     ^  <™V8  he's  too  en- 

••  "«  ""«'■.    ,r„!^^  "  "■''  •>-'""e*i™self  about  i,.» 

'"*■>•.«.  ,,11  their^doSe,  .•      ^"J"^''"*'  ''^'"  '^  "« 

•""i  »."tting  forwanl  '        ''  ^'^  ^o"""'  »■»!«»& 

l^iH^testunf,  sfr?"  ^^'^^  "sed  W  be  a 

■k,,:!'.!  ™^  "-«'-».•'  «id  .he  Mini^r;  «l'  don',' 

'  '"■»■  fmm  whac  I  1 ,1  " '  °""  "■"  '■«'^-  «"^  •"— 


Rf*ny, 


.>  I 


r 


r 


mmmmmggmmm 


^iiil 


THE  NEW  PBIE$:p. 


irr- 


276./ 


"  You  keejj^^eti^  jharp  look-oat/or  you^|fiJghbt»fe' 
■■dpingi^<s{ud  Mr.  Wellon.  .     '■  ^        ;  ,j|p^, i  ,, 

<*rve  got  into  the  way  of  it,  I  suppose  ;  but  he  might 
do  her  a  good  turn  now,  relation,  or  no  relation.  You 
heard  these  stories  they  got  up  about  her,  sir  ?  "       '     , .?  ^ 

"  No ;  I  know  orriy  what  her  letters  from  England  say 
of  her  and  whkt  she  has  told  me ,  herself.  If  you  hear 
^7  thing  against  Mrs.  Barre,  of  any  sort,  you  may  con- 
tradict it  on  my  authority ;  she's  a  lady  of  the  very  high- 
est character." 

-    #« Nobody  '11  believe  it  except  the  Romans,  sir;  and 
there's  just  where  he  ought  to  stop  it,  and  might,  if  he 
woald.     We  can  kill  it  among  Protestants  fast  enough." 
— There  is  no  house,  unless  of  beasts  or  birds,  be- 
tween M'cFinn's  kid  the  other  side. 

So  up  the  hill  and  through  the  woods, — where  the 
*^^^^  ^^  ^^^  ®^  *^^^^^  ^^^^  ^"  ^®^«^*  ^°®^  prematurely 
^^^  ^^aWii-^""^  ™^^^  clinging  to   them,— our   party 
went^|P^^-ong,  steady '  pace,  and  speculating  among 
themsek«^rom  time  to  time,  of  the  lost  maiden's  fate.  ° 
Occasionally  a  bird  started,  before  or  beside  them,  and, 
once  or  twice,  Jesse,  who  bore,  beside  his  parcel  cqntain- 
ing  food,    a    huge    king's-arm,   fired   off,— gravely  ■  and 
sadly,— his  cumbrous  piece  in  the  direction  of  the  little 
fugitives,  with  no  result  unless  to  inspire  confidence  in 
the  feathered  inhabitants  of  the  woods  that  weapons  of 
that  sort  were  rather  used  for  pleasure  than  to  do  mis- 
chief with;  and  to  give  the  marksman  himself  occasion  to 
philosophize  on  "  the  toughness  they  birds  got  with  livun 
wild,"  as  if  they  had  receiveid  the  whole  charge  of  shot 
unharmed. 

It  is  about  six  miles  through  these  woods  before  set* 
ting  to  the  wilderness,  between  them  a 


those 


upon  the 


"7*<¥'^p' 


■  «P'.«fP«^; 


^^iT-sf^ 


#*  ACROSS  THE  BARRENS. 

4    277 
other  side,  bordering  frfnitv  Bav      Th^     •  ^ 

ac<,„ain,a„ee  with  L  sr.I^!Z  m:^^:::'^' 
ve^foo.  Thia  .an  had  heaM  „f  t.^  „ 71  td  i" 
the  person  seen  upon  the  other  side-  -^  ■  -  ^ 
what  the,  had  not  ,et  heat.,  .hi;  a't^  'l^t^f 
»  -et  g.ri,  answering  to  their  description,  w21yZ^^l 

Ihats  a  di-oll  storv  "  ^aWi  P:i„*  '        . 

from  his-  Trinitv  u  P'"'  "'  '"'  '"™d  away 

ora  ins.  Irmrty-Bay  acquaintance.     "I  don't  thinl  ;. 
would  be  long  that  we'd  haye  sat  ,till  ,1.    t^ 

after  we'd  heard  of  if      A  f         '""^  *'«'"  '«> 

^  _^  .^^_^      .tard  of  ..     Once,  would  have  been  enough, 

good  deal.''         ^'         "  ""^  P'«^""«''  «■><•  'hM  was  a 

there*;,  31";^"""^  '''"''  "arvellous.'Tnd 

-  ™ore  coir irsorLT^arnTeTnV'-r 
"ous  affair.     Will  Frank  said,  "therhad  b,n  7 


o.* 


«inuigo   tiiuig,  like   what  the  TnmtyBy^mm 


) 


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•ih" 


178 


THE  NEW  PBIEST^ 


had  just  atold,  might  be  true,  too.  He  couldn'.take  it 
lippn  himself  to  say  It  wasn',  surely."  The  constable 
thought  "there  was  a  better  rbad  leading  to  where  she 
was  than  any  in  the  Barrens;?'  but  all  went  forward 
faster  than  before,  to  be  resolved  about  this  story. 

They  reach  the  woods  upon  the  other  side^  toil  through 
them,  and  come  out  i^on  the  pretty  shore  and  water  of 
New-Harbor.  A  schooner  was  lying  near  a  stage  in 
fi^nt  of  Mr.  Oldhame's  premises,  to  the  right ;  and  there 
was  a  vessel  of  some  size  Cipon  the  ways,  nearly  ready 
for  launching.  From  this  last,  the  sound  of  caulkers' 
hammers,  though  not  so  fast  apd  frequent  as  in  some 
countries,  came  frequent;  ^  towards  that  point,  our 
party  turned  their  steps.         7  ^ 

They  found  the  merchant  Overseeing  operations  at  the 
new  schooner,  and  ready  tg  enter  into  their  business, 
but  unable  to  give  any  information.  He  said  that  he 
had  not  been  able  to  hear  any  thing  at  all  definite  ;  that, 
certainly,  a  person  might  go  tkrough  a  place,  and  there 
might  be  no  more  trace  left  of  him  than  of  the  way  of  a 
bird  through  the  air,  as  the  Bible  said;  but  as  to  proof 
that  could  be  depended  upon,  of  any  one's  having  seen 
any  such  girl  as  was  described,  he  did  not  believe  there 
W9fi  any. 

The  latest  information  which  they  had  receiv«d,-i-that 
which  had  met  them,  namely,  in  the  way, — had  but  dis- 
couraging reception  here :  Mr.  Oldhame  said  that  he  had 
daily  communication  with  the  C!ove,  and  many  times  a 
day ;  and,  if  there  had  really  been  any  such  person  lying 
aick  there,  he  must  have  heard  of  it  However,  to  make 
all  sure,  it  was  only  necessary  to  ask  aniong  hSM  a  dozen  ' 
men,  from  that  place,  who  were  at  work  upon  the 
ichooner. 


■•)(- 


Stui^i^if  siuLi^  *A  jMiJt 


ACBOSS  THE  BABHENS. 


.icl,  an,„„g  their  ndghW  ^^,7  j'^'  "°'""  "^  <=*"«» 
.    .  from  (^«cepU„„  Ba/hX*  fet't  N  "^J*"'  '  '^ 

ho,  among  them  all  thpn  .1,1   j 
auntial  hope  wa,  blown  f™;*"  '^""^  "^  "^^^-g-  ""e-b- 
-rce  w„„h  the  f„U,„i,g.     y^!^  ^^f-'.  »»<!  seemed 

ir  It  could  have  h^^n  «„  ,  ' 

^^e  .ada  -o,  path!  t  r^ottT  '"'^'^''  ""^ 
been  some  end  toward  *hich  to  w»i^  ''j^-  T"""  >»-* 
l-bor ;  but  if  there  should  be  Zh-.  """  *"  *^'' 

ing  one  with  ihis  plac^  !„  ^  7,  "  *"""'='  *«  »'»«- 

f-  them,  or,  «th?th,:,: :  :'rfr"*»'  ■"■"«"'  -^ 

■    and  the  world  is  wide  ^  '""  °P™  "S^  i 

--:rs:ri^rad'"?hr-^-» 

vain.     They  stooH  nn  *k  "^"^^  ^®°t  about  in 

«-,»d  af^.t^rznet'L";*^''''^- 

there  were  any  thinff  ;„  i.    ?.         ^  "'^  substance.     If 
About  four  0*.^'  Z  If  'r  '""^  '"'"•'  ""'  «'"'  "• 
a'  the  hospitable  Mr  OM        T?"°"'  ^'  refreshment 

-'d  -  thertLf^tT'*'''''"^*"*"  •"»»•' 
wearier  than  before  barrens,  th6  waj  seemed 

'-len  and  add-^ssed  b^a  maT  I      ^  '"''''''"''  "^"^ 
be  saw  to  be  Ladforf.  '       '"°' '"'  "'"■'''8  ""nd, 

.^J  Wh„  what  brings  y„„  over  here?"  «ied  the  Mm- 

««a  me  tenner  smuinrW.     «t» .,  .     .     . 


S^Jormer  amuggler.;  « It  wouldn'7do  ^ 


i^f 


f&f^n^  f^^^'','"-»JC?'*?y,*'"J9 ''"^''f 


1B80 


THK,'1IBW  PRIEST. 


p-4 


I* 


fe- 


*?. 


^r 


iiT. 


me  to  come  before  the  Justice,  right  or  wrong.— It'll 
Woiir  past  in  a  day  or  two.— But,  Mr.  Welloii,  /  know 
where  Skipper  George's  daughter  is  !     I  thought  it  might 
be :  now,  /  know  it.— A  must  tell  it  fast.— O'  Monday 
night,  between  nine  and  ten,  by  the  .moon,,  I  was  over 
beyond  the  priests'  place,  there,  at  Bay-Harbor,  looking 
at  the  back  of  that  building  they 'say  is  a  nurinery. 
There  Was  a  light  burning  in  one  particular  room,  with 
just  a  white  curtain  down  against  the  window.     I  was 
just  thinking:  < there  are  no  gratings  on  the  window; 
but  it  sterns  to  me,  if  I  could  only  once  see  into  that 
room,   I  should   see  where    Lucy  Barbury   was  kept' 
Exactly  at  that  very  word,  as  the  thought  came  into  m^ 
mind,, there  was  a  sort  of  stir  in  the  room,  and  the  .light 
veered,  and  th,ere  was  a  shadow  on  the  curtain.     I  could 
see  more  than  one  woman, — in  their  nun's  dress,  I  sup- 
pose it  w'as ; — and  then  there  was  a  picture  painted  on 
that  curtain,  as  clear  as  the  lines  of  a  cliff  in  the  lightning  : 
there  was  a  woman  this  side  and^ther,  and  in  the  mid- 
dle was  Lucy  Barbury,  just  as^|flk«^  that  fir-tree." 
"  What  I     Are  you  sure  of  ^Kenses  ?  " 
**Th^'ve  had  thirty-six  years  of  pretty  good  practice," 
8Aid  the  smuggler.—"  No,  sir);  there's  no  mistake  :  I  see 
a  thing,  when  I  see  {%»    It  was  as  if  they'd  taken  her  out 
of  bed,  and  had  her  in  their  arms ;  and  there  was  her 
fece— just  the  side  of  it— and  the  bend  of  her  neck,  and 
her  lips  open,  ^  I've  seen  her  for  hours  and  hours,  take 
it  altogether,  when  I've  sat  and  heard  her  read.     The 
back  of  the  house,  and  where  I  was,  was .  pitch-dark ;  for 
the  moon  was  afront,  scarce  rising ;  it  couldn't  have  been 
plainer,  and  I  wasn't  a  stone's  throw  off.     It  didn't  last 
half  a  minute,  perhaps,  but  it  lasted  long  enough ;  and 
then  I  was  gtartled,  and  came  away.     I've  tiever  told 


i,  f 


Jt 


\fr^  J 


t  \  -mifWtf^^i 


) 


nuriioery. 


'  •  t 


Ti-i 


racdce,** 
! :  I  see 
her  out 
was  her 
3ck,  and 
irs,  take 
L  The 
irk;  for 
ve  been 
[n't  last 
[h ;  and 
rer  told 


■.\^.       .      t.M^Alil  jtt^JiJr.ji.'\ 


^' 


f 


o. 


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■s'.;^' 


,j.4* 


